THE PERFECT GIFT

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree at this time of the year for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it. You know, the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma, the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner city church. The kids were mostly black.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without head gear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously couldn't afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids-all kids. He understood kids in competitive situations, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.

That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me.

His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition - one year sending a group of mentally challenged youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas - on and on...

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. Still, the story doesn't end there.

You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. Yet Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further, with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation, watching as their fathers take down their envelopes.

Mike's spirit, like the spirit of Christmas, will always be with us.

MERRY CHRISTMAS dear reader and friend...May the love that came down that first Christmas fill your heart and mind today and always.

ROSES FOR A DIME

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway he didn't own any. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold.

Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift. He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend."

Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far.

What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and one younger sister, who ran the household in their mother's absence.

All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to.

Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime.

Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a dime.

He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."

As Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers.

The sound of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid.

Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box.

"That will be ten cents young man." the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime! Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?"

This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son."

As he returned inside, the shop keepers wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?"

Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime.

"When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too, was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.

"When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses."

The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.

-Author Unknown-

THE GOLD WRAPPING PAPER

Once upon a time, a man punished his five-year-old daughter for using up the family’s only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper before Christmas.Money was tight, so he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve, he saw that the child had used the expensive gold paper to decorate a large shoebox she had put under the Christmas tree.

Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, “This is for you, Daddy!”

As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, now regretting how he had punished her.

But when he opened the shoebox, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. “Don’t you know, young lady,” he said harshly, “when you give someone a present there’s supposed to be something inside the package!”

The little girl looked up at him with sad tears rolling from her eyes and whispered: “Daddy, it’s not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full.”

The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.

An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept this little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems, he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.

In a very real sense, each of us as human beings have been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God.

There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

————————————————–
Dear friends,

I don’t know if the following story is true, but whether or not it actually happened, it is a wonderfully inspiring Christmas story. In this season of love, may we all remember the beautiful love of a small child. I wish you all a meaningful and love-filled holiday season and new year ahead. May your days be filled with love, joy, growth, and inspiration.

With boundless love and joy,
mws

A CHILD'S REQUEST TO SANTA

Snowflakes softly falling, upon your window they play.
Your blanket is snug around you, into sleep you drift away.

I bend to gently kiss you, when I see that on the floor,
There's a letter neatly written, I wonder whom it's for.

I quietly unfold it, making sure you're still asleep.
It's a Christmas list for Santa; one my heart will always keep.

It started just as always, with the toys seen on TV,
A new watch for your father and a winter coat for me.

But as my eyes read on, I could see that deep inside,
There were many things you wished for, that your loving heart would hide.

You asked if your friend Molly could have another Dad.
It seems her father hits her, and it makes you very sad.

Then you asked dear Santa, if the neighbor down the street,
Could find a job that he might have some food, and clothes, and heat.

You saw a family on the news, whose house had blown away.
"Dear Santa, send them just one thing, a place where they can stay."

"And Santa, those four cookies, that I left you for a treat,
Could you take them to the children, who have nothing else to eat?"

"Do you know that little bear I have, the one I love so dear?
I'm leaving it for you to take to Africa this year".

"And as you fly your reindeer, on this night of Jesus' birth,
Could your magic bring to everyone, goodwill and peace on earth?"

"There's one last thing before you go, so grateful I would be,
If you'd smile at Baby Jesus, in the manger by our tree."

I pulled the letter close to me, I felt it melt my heart.
Those tiny hands had written what no other could impart.

"And a little child shall lead them," was whispered in my ear,
As I watched you sleep on Christmas Eve, while Santa Claus was her

THE GOLD SLIPPERS

It was only four days before Christmas. The spirit of the season hadn't yet caught up with me, even though cars packed the parking lot of our local discount store.

Inside the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered.

My feet ached almost as much as my head. My list contained names of several people who claimed they wanted nothing but I knew their feelings would be hurt if didn't buy them anything.

Buying for someone who had everything and deploring the high cost of items, I considered gift-buying anything but fun. Hurriedly, I filled my shopping cart with last minute items and proceeded to the long checkout lines. I picked the shortest but it looked as if it would mean at least a 20 minute wait.

In front of me were two small children - a boy of about 5 and a younger girl. The boy wore a ragged coat. Enormously large, tattered tennis shoes jutted far out in front of his much too short jeans. He clutched several crumpled dollar bills in his grimy hands. The girl's clothing resembled her brother's. Her head was a matted mass of curly hair. Reminders of an evening meal showed on her small face.

She carried a beautiful pair of shiny, gold house slippers. As the Christmas music sounded in the store's stereo system, the girl hummed along, off-key but happily.

When we finally approached the checkout register, the girl carefully placed the shoes on the counter. She treated them as though they were a treasure.

The clerk rang up the bill. "That will be $6.09," she said. The boy laid his crumpled dollars atop the stand while he searched his pockets. He finally came up with $3.12. "I guess we will have to put them back, " he bravely said.

"We will come back some other time, maybe tomorrow." With that statement, a soft sob broke from the little girl. "But Jesus would have loved these shoes, " she cried. "Well, we'll go home and work some more. Don't cry. We'll come back," he said.

Quickly I handed $3.00 to the cashier. These children had waited in line for a long time. And, after all, it was Christmas. Suddenly a pair of arms came around me and a small voice said, "Thank you lady."

"What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the shoes?" I asked.

The boy answered, "Our mommy is sick and going to heaven. Daddy said she might go before Christmas to be with Jesus." The girl spoke, "My Sunday school teacher said the streets in heaven are shiny gold, just like these shoes."

"Won't mommy be beautiful walking on those streets to match these shoes?"

My eyes flooded as I looked into her tear streaked face. "Yes" I answered, "I am sure she will."

Silently I thanked God for using these children to remind me of the true spirit of giving." 'Tis the Season!! Remember that it's better to give than receive.

JUST DETOURS

I have a little story I thought I would share with all of you. I recently relocated, bought a house and moved in the first weekend of July.

Since I have been in my new neighborhood, I have had the pleasure of meeting a few of my neighbors who seem to be extremely nice people. For Christmas, I thought I would do something nice for each of the neighbors that I know. I sat down and counted. There were nine neighbors whom I knew by name or spoke with often when I was out in my yard. I also knew which houses they lived in.

I decided to add one more person to my list for a total of ten. This lady that I decided to add lives down the street from me. I meet her every morning walking to work as I drive down the street. She always manages a contagious smile and a hearty wave. I had no idea what her name was and not even sure which house she lived in.

My gift idea was to make small fruit baskets and leave them on each of my neighbor's front porches or door steps the night of Christmas Eve for them to find, either that night or the next morning. I signed the cards: "Happy Holidays from 5104 Northumberland Road."

I saved the friendly lady for last, since I was still not exactly sure where she lived. I finally decided upon a house down about where I met her each morning and felt relatively sure that it was hers.

My neighbors really appreciated the baskets and would tell me as they saw me in the yard or they would call, and a couple even came by to thank me.

This morning on my way to work, I placed my mail in the mailbox and noticed a small note inside. It was addressed simply -- Resident, 5104 Northumberland Road.

I opened the envelope and took out a Thank You card. I opened the card and read the message which really caught me by surprise.

The card said. "Thank you for the lovely fruit basket you left on the porch of Richard Kelly. It was very thoughtful. Richard Kelly passed away on January 19, 1999. He never stopped talking about how nice it was that someone remembered him in his time of illness. He really appreciated it."

I was sincerely stunned. I had no idea who Richard Kelly was or that he had been gravely ill. I had left that nice lady's basket on Mr. Kelly's porch by accident. I wanted to say by mistake, but that would be wrong. I believe that Richard Kelly was meant to have that basket and the Lord knew that he only had less than a month to live. I hate that the nice lady did not get to receive a fruit basket from me this Christmas, but I believe that if she knew what happened, she would have had outcome no other way.

I feel blessed to have helped Richard Kelly's last days be more cheerful. This just further reinforces my belief that there are never any mistakes in life -- just detours, shortcuts, and small excursions along the way.

by: A. Brian Fielder, , Heartwarmers4u

THE STORY OF MAX

"Merry Christmas Carol" Bernadette told her friend and co-worker of twenty years. It had never occurred to Bernadette to buy Carol a Christmas present, they'd been working together for so long that it was understood that it wasn't necessary.

"I was in the Toys R Us and he just fell off the shelf, right into my arms. I thought of you as soon as I saw him!" With all the grace and maturity one can muster upon the arrival of a gift, Carol opened the box.

"Max!" Carol exclaimed, hugging the sandy-brown Teddy Bear. She held him close as if to finally see a long lost friend.

"That's your name, Max."

Carol had worked at DOT for 20 years and was fast reaching retirement age. So it was time to begin preparations for her and her husband Sam's dream. One which may not have happened if not for a tragic event a couple of years earlier. Their 22-year-old daughter was killed by a drunk driver on a nearby highway. She and her friends had been very careful and responsible that night and had designated a driver for the night. Regardless of how careful they had been, the man driving the semi was not quite as responsible.

Because of the money they'd received in settlements, they could now afford they're dream to move to Oregon and own a traveling vacation home. The vacation home was to be 40' long sleeps 10 comfortably, had a shower and toilet, kitchen with a stove and refrigerator and all the basic luxury's of life. The home had been ordered and it was now time for Sam to drive to California to pick it up.

Sam had spent most of his working life as a truck driver. With an impeccable record of only one accident in 15 years of driving, and that accident was the result of a man running a red light and slamming into the side of his rig. Needless to say they decided to save a few thousand dollars and Sam would pick it up himself. He knew all the roads, shortcuts to take and dangerous spots to avoid.

Now regardless of how well a driver Sam was, or how careful he promised he would be, Carol was understandably uneasy. We had all grown accustomed to her uneasiness about driving any long distances. Before you left her house, you were sent off with adamant "BE CAREFUL!!!" It honestly worried her that you may not have heard her the first time so she always repeat it, even more adamant than the first time.

"Here take Max" she told him before he walked out the door "He'll protect you." Sam loved his wife dearly, and even though this was only to pacify her, he belted Max into the front seat and gave her a kiss goodbye.

Things went well for the next couple of weeks. Carol got lonely, so I went out to eat with her almost every night for a week, just so she didn't feel lonely. We invited her and her son over to watch movies so they'd forget how much they missed him. Every couple of days, Sam would call and give her a list of his expenses and then spend 15 minutes telling each other how much they missed and loved each other.

One Saturday afternoon, I had gone to my mother's house for the day. I had bought her an Internet unit and was busy showing her how it worked. The phone line was busy all day, so Carol could not get through. At about ten that night, we'd both decided to turn the machine off and give it a rest for the night. Within minutes, the phone rang.

"Lee, Sam's been in an accident." My heart sank. Suddenly, the memory came rushing back.

"Lee, Carol's been in an accident." was what she'd told me 3 years earlier. She'd woke me up at about 6 in the morning to tell me that she'd died before the ambulance even arrived. It was one of the worst days of my life. Carol Marie was my best friend. We held each other up when things got hard. I'll never forget seeing her later that morning, standing in the spot in front of my house where she used to park her car. She was just standing there, crying "my baby"!

This was not a memory flood. This was real stuff. Sam was on his way back from California and had hardly had the home for two days when a big storm hit the area that Sam was supposed to travel to get home. He decided to avoid the storm and take an alternate route, through Nevada. The road was in the middle of a desert with a 25-foot embankment to either side of him. The road was well known for it's high winds and had a reputation for blowing cars off the road as if they were made of paper. The road was not closed today, so this was the route he took.

Sam drove a semi for many years and was quite experienced in pulling the kind of load he had. Sam was an impeccable driver and what happened next was an act of God. A gust of wind came along and threw the Ford-Diesel and the 40-ft vacation home over the side and down the 25-ft embankment. Immediately, the home came unhitched from the truck. Sam, being belted in the end was OK with a broken hand and a couple of broken ribs.

Once all had landed, the propane tanks on the vacation home exploded immediately and the truck and home were ablaze instantly, and Sam had to crawl out a broken window for his life.

The insurance company paid for a bus ticket home (they'd offered him a plane ticket, but figured he'd had enough excitement for one lifetime) so Carol and I went down town to meet him. On the way home from the bus station, we were of course relieved that he was now home and safe. So it was then we began our barrage of questions.

We'd asked what you might have asked.

"What happened, did you see it burn, how long till help arrived..." Most of the answers he gave were to say in the least, forgettable and predictable. We merely asked as if it was the thing to do. No one really wanted to think about it. But I'd asked him what he was thinking as the truck was rolling down the hill.

He said once the truck landed, and he noticed that it was on fire, he'd written himself off for dead. At this point, now that his dream was going up in smoke, he'd figured that this was it. Only, in the process of the truck rolling and tumbling down the hill, Max landed on his lap.

It was this he said, that reminded him it was not the end. In my own mind, it was the bear that saved his life. The bear reminded him, in that critical instant, that he had a family that loved him, and he had moments to get out.

So, here we were, on our way home. Sam had left the house with so much. Forty thousand dollars worth of truck, and fifty-five thousands worth of vacation home. But walking back into his house, he came in a little bit poorer, wiser...maybe. But what was important was that he'd walked into the house with the same thing he left with: his life, his hat, and a Teddy Bear. And one thing extra, firsthand knowledge of the power of love.

LIGHTS

In line with the Christmas season, I have scheduled Christmas inspirational stories in all my three blogspot blogs here, Masterwordsmith@Writers.Inc. and masterwordsmith-unplugged every morning. Do visit the sites when you are free. I have also included children's Christmas stories to add variety to the posts. I will still put up jokes and socio-political posts as usual. This evening, I'd like to share with you a very touching tale which I posted last year.....Take care and have a lovely evening.
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My father died in April of 1997 after a 10 year battle with Cancer. In September, of that year, my husband and I made our annual trek from Massachusetts to York, Maine for our wedding anniversary vacation. York, Maine is where I spent my summer vacations as a child with my family, into my teenage years. It is a very special place for us with so many wonderful memories and one of the places where I said goodbye to my Dad after his passing.

Well, my husband and I invited my mother to join us for a couple days knowing that this was a very special place for her as well. We all had a fun day of exploring around the rocks, looking for treasures from the sea; watching the tide ebb and flow; we re-visited some of the places we used to go to when I was a little girl and of course, we dined at a lovely restaurant in Perkins Cove, overlooking the ocean.

We returned back to the cottage after supper and to our delight the Nubble Lighthouse, was all aglow with white lights! And the Christmas tree inside the light-keepers house was aglow as well. This was an unusual occurence, as the Christmas lights don't usually get put on until after Thanksgiving for the Christmas holidays. I began thinking that this is a true sign of my Dad's presence with us. Here we were all together, enjoying a place which means so much to us and meant so very much to my Dad, and we were all being blessed with this beautiful gift of a Christmas light display in September!

I was just beaming with happiness at these warm thoughts! These lights were on again the following night after my Mom's departure back to Massachusetts.

The next day, I walked over to the Visitor's Station, and questioned this unusual occurence with the Hostess. She was unaware that the lights had been going on for those two nights and very sternly said to me that they shouldn't be on; that they don't usually go on until after Thanksgiving.

I told her that my husband and I had been going to Nubble Light, York, Maine, for the past 5 years in September, and we've never seen the lights displayed this early and that we certainly were enjoying this beautiful display. She insisted this was a mistake.

That very night, the lights went on as usual. My husband and I went out to dinner and when we returned, we noticed that the lights which had been gracing the lighthouse had been turned off!

Let this be a lesson to all of us, not to question the precious gifts from God! I certainly learned my lesson!

-Author Unknown-