Readers share their holiday stories (cont.)

'SANTA SENDS A MESSAGE'

By Mary Gafford

Only a few days were left before Christmas Day! At the mall could be seen numerous families and packs of teenagers looking for those last-minute bargains. After all, there had to be lots of packages to open for Christmas. That's what would make for a VERY Merry Christmas! Right?

A dominant sight catching the eyes of all the children was the jolly, robust white-bearded Santa Claus in a scarlet-red suit who was sitting on his throne while greeting everyone with his happy "HO-HO-HO!" A long line of children of all ages, escorted by beaming parents, was visible from a distance, too! Santa lovingly was greeting each child while he patiently listened to the gift requests. To each he brought hope for a wonderful Christmas Day where every wish imaginable would come true.

Suddenly on the scene appeared three sullen, sinister-looking teenage boys. They had about their faces looks far removed from that of peace, hope or Christmas cheer. Quickly they got in a huddle and seemed to be planning a strategic move. The shortest boy in stature of the three spoke first.

"Hey, ya gotta tell me how you gonna ruin Christmas for all those kids. After all, they're havin' a blast talkin' to Santa!"

The tallest of the three boys then exposed a hideous frown upon his countenance as he retorted: "Well, I'm fixin' it so old Santa looks stupid! Then all those kids'll end up cryin' 'cause I'll show 'em Santa ain't real! You know that bird I got here in my pocket?"

The other two boys nodded in an affirmative manner.

The tallest youth then continued. "I'm fixin' it so Santa will look like a stupid idiot in front of all those brats. How? 'Cause I'm fixin' it so whatever old Santa says will make him a liar. Just watch! And I'm doin' it with this bird in my pocket."

He then motioned for the other two teenagers to move in for the action. They moved right by Santa Claus. The tallest boy with the bird in his coat pocket yelled out, "Hey, you old man with the white beard and the funny-lookin' outfit, looka here at ME!"

Santa paused and, with big blue eyes visible over his tiny specs, turned toward the three teenage boys.

"Hey, you, IF you are REAL and know IF kids are nice or not and IF you can really bring presents to all of these kids and other kids in the world, answer a question for me! I got a bird in my coat pocket! IF you really know so much, then tell me something. Is this bird alive or dead?"

The three sullen teens looked up at Santa. Yet of the three, the instigator of this scheme had the biggest smirk on his tormented face. You see, he was going to let the bird go if Santa said it was dead. Or he was going to squash the bird to death if Santa said it was alive. Either way he'd make a fool out of Santa in front of all of those children!

Santa Claus paused only a second. Then the jolly gentleman said, "Why, it is whatever you will it to be, son!" Then he continued in his very audible "HO-HO-HO" voice as he beckoned for the next child to come up and tell him his hopes for a happy Christmas.

The three teen boys looked at each other in disbelief. The Santa scheme had backfired!

As they turned to walk away and to distance themselves from Santa, suddenly a beautiful golden-looking canary appeared within the mall!

 

'CHRISTMAS SPIRITS

By Shirley Braverman

"I am the cat that walks by myself and all places and all times are the same to me," I announced smugly at Thanksgiving. "I've spent a week with each one of you this month and that's enough. I intend to ignore Christmas this year, going to stay home."

Mouths dropped open, eyes widened. There was dead silence, so I went on.

"I'm 70 years old and the traveling and the holidays are too distracting and disrupting for me this year. I have writing deadlines to meet. Besides, I'll be back for Valentine's Day."

"It won't be Christmas without you," my younger daughter moaned.

"You'll get lonely," my son protested.

"I'll be fine," I insisted.

Knowing my hard-headedness, that was pretty much the end of it. Now, Christmas morning, sitting in my easy chair sipping my coffee and listening to Christmas carols on the radio, I felt I had made the right decision. My home had no Christmas decorations. Even the Christmas cards had been tossed. The kids would call later after they'd opened their gifts. But for now, for me, peace and quiet and work. Then the invasion.

A whiff of gingerbread drifting on the winter wind was making my nose tingle. A winter blizzard had posed the catastrophe of having no cakes, muffins, gingerbread or eggnog for Christmas. The only hens that laid eggs during the winter were those living under the lights at the feed mill and hatchery six miles away.

But the men had brought out horses and sleds, fetched the eggs and delivered them to all the women of our little town. My grandmother's kitchen was toasty warm and wonderful. Her face beautiful, her deep blue eyes twinkling with excitement. How I loved her!

Beloved adults of my childhood ate at the big table. We kids, cousins all, ate on the stairs, all 16 of us, teasing and giggling as we passed goodies up and down. Most of my cousins are gone now. I was one of the youngest.

Then, first kisses under the mistletoe. The Christmas when I had my first job and bought my parents wristwatches. The Christmas when I was first married and Christmases for the first child, and the second and third.

Memories strong and fresh surround me, engulf me, enchant me. Seeing things now that I had missed as a child. Seeing things, looking back over the years, knowing all their fates, recognizing the sacrifices they had made for me made the memories more poignant, more precious.

In the noise and excitement of visiting and traveling in recent Christmases I had missed the quiet time necessary to allow these memories to drift up from the depths of my mind. How vividly they were etched there. How cherished and sacred they were and they were mine, mine alone.

The ringing phone interrupted my revelries. I would reassure my daughter that I was having a wonderful Christmas. Staying home had been the right decision after all.

TO GIVE WITH LOVE

By Joyce H. Patrick

"Grandma, I've written my wish list and sent it to Santa. I've made sure that Dad and Mom know what's on it. Wouldn't you like to read it, too? Every year it seems that I'm lucky to get just one, maybe two of the items on my list. What was it like when you were a kid?"

"Johnny, a wish list is just that -- a list of wishes and no one ever receives them all. You're thinking of this holiday backwards. It's not what we get that's important. It's giving."

Johnny sat back quietly trying to think of a new way to encourage Grandma to give him one of his wishes.

"Giving? Grandma, I don't have any money. I'm just a kid. We are given to! Did Santa Claus visit you with gifts when you were young like me?"

Grandma leaned back in her chair. Johnny watched her face soften with a gentle smile. Slowly she nodded her head and replied, "Yes, but as I said, the true meaning of Christmas is the giving. Santa gives, just as God gave on that very first Christmas. You do understand that the word Christmas came because of Christ?"

"Yes, Grandma. I heard that story, but I like 'The Night Before Christmas' the best. Santa comes and brings us gifts. He reads our lists and letters. I was just hoping that you would read my list and maybe help him out a little."

Grandma sighed and folded her hands in her lap. Johnny knew that he had likely pressed her a bit more than he should have.

Wondering why Grandma was avoiding his list, Johnny settled down quietly by her side and patted her folded hands, asking, "Do you want to tell me a story?"

Grandma pulled him close, saying: "Yes, Johnny, you've asked me several questions. Let me see if I can answer them for you. I think when I was a child, we were much like the children today. We dreamed of a special toy and hoped Santa would come, but just like today for some, sometimes Santa missed our house. Yet Christmas was warm and happy because my mother told us that the 'givers' are always happier than the 'receivers.' Why do you think Santa is always so jolly?"

Johnny nodded, so Grandma continued.

"Just like you, we didn't have any money, so we searched for paper, cloth -- anything -- and we made gifts for our family. Oh, the fun and excitement of planning and making and giving. Sometimes, we couldn't find or think of a gift to make, so we secretly watched and listened to our mother to find some task to help with before she even asked. Those are called acts of kindness and people still give them today.

"Somehow we never seemed to miss our special wish when we didn't get it because it was so wonderful to see the pleasure our giving brought. That's how we learned the true meaning of Christmas: To give with love."

 

'CHRISTMAS MOVIE MAGIC'

By Lillie Willliams

Casey realized she had fallen asleep on her favorite Christmas movie when the gusty night winds shook the door and startled her. She looked up, hoping to see members of her family coming through the enormous wooden door. Her shoulders drooped when she realized no one was there.

"What's the point?" she chided herself. "No one values Christmas and family togetherness anymore."

She thought about her brother, Robert, and his family skiing the slopes of Aspen. She could almost hear his two children laughing as they flopped down the bunny slopes. She could only imagine the laughter and fun they would have around a fire similar to the one she was lounging by later that night. Pictures of old black-and-white movies flashed through her head when she thought of the cozy scene.

Casey had long since abandoned the idea that her own teenagers would join her in the family cabin. It had been years since the divorce and years since her children had chosen to spend the holidays with her, preferring instead to spend their time frolicking in the sun and surf of her ex-husband's Hawaiian hideaway. Releasing yet another heartfelt sigh, Casey decided to go to the kitchen and munch on the sugar cookies and hot chocolate she had made earlier.

"If this were the movies," she thought, "my family would all come bursting in and we would sit around the fire sharing the delicious cookies and chocolate and sing carols and tell the Christmas story before settling in."

Casey chuckled to herself, "Boy, I've certainly gone all sentimental. Next thing you know some stranger and his wife will knock on my door in a panic because she's about to have a baby and their car has stopped." Casey smiled at the picture that thought put into to her head, since she was definitely not the type to deliver a baby! Casey cleaned up her snack and walked back into the living room.

"Oh, well, another Christmas alone," she thought, "Next year I think I'll stay in town and celebrate with friends."

Casey shut off the lights, stopping for a minute to admire the beauty of the dying embers glowing in the fireplace.

"Well," she mumbled, "there's always next year." Casey climbed the stairs to her bedroom; she turned toward the huge oak door, the last glimmer of hope dying, just like the fireplace embers, as she realized she had spent yet another Christmas alone. She trudged up the stairs vowing to get an early start home in the morning.

Casey wanted to snuggle deeper into her cozy bed, but she knew she'd have to get a move on if she wanted to miss the day-after-Christmas traffic back to town.

"Boy, I really am waxing sentimental; I can almost smell Mom's homemade poundcake! The sooner I get out of here and back to reality, the better," she reasoned.

Casey walked down the stairs mentally checking off what she still had to do before her departure. She stumbled on the landing, her eyes widening in joy as she recognized her two beautiful daughters curled up on the overstuffed sofa, sleeping.

"Sarah, Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" she questioned happily. Just as the sleepy-eyed girls were about to explain, her brother walked through the door with a pile of firewood his two laughing children scampering behind him. Robert smiled cheerfully when he saw her.

"Habari Gani!?" he said. Puzzled, Casey was about to question his strange greeting when his wife, Mary, walked out of the kitchen carrying what looked suspiciously like her mother's poundcake, happily exclaiming, "We've decided to start a new tradition, since we all seem to go our separate ways during Christmas. Today is December 26th."

Casey looked at Mary, confusion still evident on her face. "OK, so it's the day after Christmas?"

"Yes," said Mary, "and the first day of Kwanzaa!" A huge smile spread across Casey's face as she realized what her sister-in-law was saying. Then she realized what the strange greeting her brother had given earlier meant; "Habari Gani?" is "What's the news? in Swahili!" Casey smiled joyfully as she took in the scene.

"Just like one of my old Christmas movies," she reflected as she walked arm-and-arm into the kitchen listening to her daughters explain that their uncle had called them earlier in the week to set everything up. Casey thought, "What a surprise, and what a brilliant idea."

Casey sat contemplating the scene before her. Her entire family was happily sitting around the breakfast table all trying to talk at once.

"I couldn't have planned it better myself," she reflected. "It's just like in the movies."

The talking stopped momentarily when her brother asked, "Is that someone knocking at the door?"

 

'A LITTLE TREE IN OREGON'

By Caroline McIntyre

A little tree in Oregon waited every year

For Christmastime to come around and bring its festive cheer

The tree dreamed that a family from a small house painted white

Would want to take him home with them to make their season bright

But other trees grew faster and families chose them first

The little tree tried to be brave but he feared the worst

He started to believe he would never quite belong

Until a little snowbird sang to him this song:

Your time will come, one day you'll understand

Don't believe the doubters, just believe you can

One day you'll be shining, proud you made it through

Reaching for your dreams is not an easy thing to do

As the seasons passed, the little tree grew tall

To the point where he would not fit in a house at all

So when they whisked him off, it took him by surprise

He flew across the nation through clear December skies

And soon he stood before his little house of white

Except the house seemed bigger than he had dreamed at night

Then the pieces fell in place, much to his relief

For just before they lit the tree he heard "Hail To the Chief"

Then his branches were aglow for everyone to see

The little spruce from Oregon was our nation's Christmas tree

He sang:

My time has come to shine across the land

You can reach your dreams if you believe you can

To the little trees in Oregon who stand misunderstood

Merry, Merry Christmas from the little tree that could!

 

'A SECOND CHANCE'

By Catherine Wichael, 14

Ten years ago, I had a Christmas like no other. I was 16, and it was Christmas Day. Everyone was going to Grandma's house for Christmas. Grandpa had died a few years back and Grandma was pretty much alone except for the occasional visit from some of her children. This was going to be the first Christmas in many years where the whole family would be together. You see, most of the family lived in different parts of the country, but this year, FINALLY, everyone would be together again.

But tragedy struck, for when everyone had arrived, Grandma suffered a stroke. We called an ambulance and everyone rushed to the hospital, only to find that Grandma had died. While the doctors tried frantically to bring her back, everyone cried and wailed, "Why didn't we spend more time with her, or visit with her more often, or show and tell her how much we loved her?" After a little, the doctors gave up and gave the news to the family. But almost as soon as the doctor went out, he came back and told them that it appeared a Christmas miracle had happened: Grandma was alive! Everyone was overjoyed, and shocked at the fact that she could still be alive. Though very shocked, we realized that we had almost lost one of the most important people in our lives.

The very next Christmas, everyone was together again -- this time, though, without incident. But even though the holiday was the time we were all together, Grandma had seen us all at least two times that year. You see, we realized how little time we had, and that we had been given a second chance to show all our love for her.

Four years later, Grandma died, but she was not alone because everyone was there, crowded in the little room. And everyone had spent time with her, and showed how much they cared. We made sure she knew we loved her, and that she would be missed.

Yes, we were given a second chance, but for many it is not so; they lose the ones they love the most without even showing how much they care. So this holiday enjoy the presents and feast on turkey, but remember to show the people you love that you care. Show them you love them so that when you part they won't have a reason to doubt your love. You may not get a second chance ... be sure to show them now.

 

'WHY WAIT?'

By Robyn Wichael, 12

"Hey, Lizzie, wake up," said Lizzie's twin sister, Jessie.

"What do you want, Jessie?" mumbled Lizzie.

"It's Christmas!" exclaimed Jessie. "Lets go see all the presents."

"I'm coming," said Lizzie, jumping out of bed. Running to the living room, they stopped when they saw the tree and all the presents.

"Let's go open ours," said Jessie.

"Maybe we should wait for everybody else to wake up first," said Lizzie.

"OK, I guess we should wait."

After 20 minutes of sitting and waiting, the girls were impatient and ready to open presents.

"I think maybe we should just open two of ours," said Jessie.

"But we don't know which ones are ours," said Lizzie.

"Well, we could just open two of the big ones," said Jessie. Twenty minutes later they had opened more then just two big ones, and they weren't all theirs.

"Cool! I got a paintball gun!" exclaimed Jessie.

"Aw! I only got a squirt gun."

"Maybe those presents weren't yours," came their dad's voice from behind them.

"Run!" cried Jessie. As they ran and hid under their beds, they could hear their dad's footsteps behind them.

"You two better come out from under those beds right now," said their dad.

"Why'd you open presents before everybody was awake?" he asked as they came crawling out from under their beds.

"It was Jessie's fault!"

"No, it wasn't! Everybody was taking too long to wake up!" exclaimed Jessie.

"Bang!" came a loud noise.

"What's going on?" yelled Jessie. "Why are you sleeping, Lizzie? Weren't we just in trouble for opening presents?"

"What are you talking about? Jessie, you must have been dreaming," mumbled Lizzie.

"But we were just in trouble for opening presents," protested Lizzie.

"Why would we be in trouble for opening presents?"

"Because we didn't wait for everybody to wake up first," said Jessie.

"You're crazy! Go back to bed!"

"I must have been dreaming," thought Jessie.

"Bang! Bang!" The door shook.

"Girls," Dad called.

Jessie hid under her covers. "I knew we were in trouble."

"Hurry up, girls. Why do you want to wait so long to open your presents?"

'MY SEVENTH CHRISTMAS'

By Benjamin R. Wichael, 11

I woke up one Christmas Eve day with an urge to look under the tree. I counted all the presents ... one, two, three. Wait a minute! How can this be? Only two of these presents are for me. I searched and searched. With relief I found the rest were underneath.

I wondered through the day what I would get on Christmas Day. It was time to go to bed. As I laid my head, I thought about all the toys and all the happy girls and boys.

It's Christmas Day! Yay! I get to unwrap a lot of toys and be one of those happy boys. I ran to the tree. When I got there with surprise, the pile of presents was twice its size! I searched them all and found a present shaped like a ball. Finally, everyone was here. I was told I could unwrap a present. Which one was first? Was it that one, or that, or the one shaped like a hat?

Well, that's that. All the presents are unwrapped. It's the end of the day, and I just want to play. I have lots of toys, and my favorite ones make lots of noise.

The stockings are unhung. This day was lots of fun. It's snowing, and my Uncle Bob will be going. He said to count the minutes 'til he leaves ... one, two, three. Everyone has left and the snow is so high. My little sister thought it touched the sky! My dad is sitting in his special chair, and my mom is brushing her hair. I played 'til 8 and then my mom said it was late. I went to bed and realized that it was the end!

 

'NOCHE BUENA'

By Anne-Marie D. Wichael

The sunshine brought a grin to Nancy's face. "It's warmer outside than inside," she thought, exiting the chilly block house and walking down the street. Heading toward the mercado on the main road, she perused her list. Pausing at the dulcería to admire the pinatas, she moved on, eager to complete her purchases and return home to prepare for the evening's celebration, the Noche Buena.

The family had resided in this small coastal community in Baja Norte for nearly a year. Their first Christmas here was an exciting prospect. Nancy was proud of everyone; rather than grieving for familiar ways, they embraced the newness of Mexican tradition this season. They had gleaned all that they could of local customs, surprising many of their new acquaintances with their interest. Though the sights and smells were strangely different, the hustle and bustle of this Christmas Eve were completely familiar. A pig squealed in the distance; Nancy grimaced. "I wonder what delicacy he will be tonight," she thought.

Standing in line at the meat counter, she observed shopping baskets laden with corn husks and sugar cane, the makings of tamales and Ponche de Navidad. These were mainstays of the Noche Buena celebration in so many Mexican homes. Completing her purchase, Nancy tipped the neighbor boy who bagged her groceries and hurried home. Bells jingled nearby as vendors offered their wares. A fruit truck passed, loudspeaker blaring, "Naranjas, cinco pesos por kilo." Nancy's husband greeted her at the door with a handful of firecrackers.

"A gift from the neighbors," he chuckled.

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "Not exactly the safe-and-sane variety."

Throughout the day, she considered this new world and its ways. Tonight's festivities would include a family meal and fireworks in the street. Finally, at midnight, gifts would be opened. Funny, here the emphasis was on the night of the Christ Child's birth. Back home, children would anxiously await the arrival of a jolly man dressed in red. Here, the excitement would culminate with the gift that was given, the baby Jesus. There were still gifts, but the timing was interesting. With simpler gifts, the emphasis was on people, not things. People were quick to share, to show hospitality to the gabachos. The only white people in the small colonia, they were an oddity. Yet the friends they made were eager to help them discover the charm of Mexican customs. This would be a holiday to cherish as they experienced it through the hearts and lives of another people.

Boom! The firecracker startled Nancy. Her husband laughed heartily outside.

"He's adapting well enough," she laughed. Josefa, a neighbor, walked into the house giggling. As she offered fresh tamales, another firecracker exploded. The children applauded.

"Another one, Daddy! Otra vez!"

Nancy offered a plate of cookies to her visitor, smiling. Noche Buena would be special, a time for the family to experience the joy of simplicity so elusive in their own world. A good night, to be sure, Noche Buena.

 

'EVERYTHING WE NEED'

By Mary Nicolan

I suddenly woke up from a dream -- or at least I thought it was a dream. It seemed so real; everyone there was so clear, so happy. Laughter filled the room. Everyone was visiting with each other sharing stories, even singing together, singing "Jingle Bells."

My little dog, Muffin, was there, too. She was greeting everyone, begging for a little treat. I could feel Muffin's soft fur, I could look into her loving eyes and I felt so loved. It was Christmas and the family was finally all together again, the family I haven't seen in years. This is what I always dreamed of when I was a little girl -- the family that I wanted to love me for me, the family that included me in their parties, the family that wanted to be with me and talk with me and ask how I am doing, and what is new in my life.

Then it was over; I woke up. I felt so very sad after that dream. Then the sadness disappeared. I was awake right now and not dreaming. I realized right there I have a beautiful, loving family right here in the present. I finally realized the most precious people are with me right now, and they really do love me for who I am, and truly want to be with me right now. I don't have to live in a dream of make-believe families of the past, or feel sad because of past Christmas memories. I have woken up finally and realized that with every Christmas comes new memories to be cherished, and although the past stirs up thoughts of what we think we are missing in the future, we always have today. Today -- right now -- is what we need to embrace and to enjoy. Everything we need is right here and now. Merry Christmas.

 

'THE CHRISTMAS WREATH'

By Karen J. Allred

It was a week before Christmas. Tina was so excited she couldn't stand it. Finally it was time to put up the Christmas decorations. And that included hanging their "special wreath" on the front door.

Mother pulled the wreath from out of the storage box. It still looked beautiful, the evergreen limbs tied together to form a perfect circle, red holly berries interspersed to add just the right color, a bow tied on the top.

That evening the family went outside. Tina's father turned on the outside lights.

"Ohh," they all said. Tina's eyes went straight for the door. There hung the wreath. It had a quiet beauty.

The next morning Tina's mother asked her to get the newspaper from outside. As she picked up the newspaper, she noticed the wreath was missing. Tina ran into the house shouting to her mother. Mother came out to look and, sure enough, the wreath was gone. Tina was devastated. Mother told her that maybe someone else needed it more than they did.

The next few days were hard on Tina. How could anyone steal "her" wreath? It's Christmas, and people should behave better.

Finally Christmas Eve came. Tina tried to be happy. After supper the family all climbed into the car to go look at Christmas lights. They loved to see how other people decorated their homes. It let them spend time together as a family. They sang songs as they drove around. Soon Tina felt a little better and enjoyed the singing and the lights.

When Tina and her family arrived home, they were very much surprised. Especially Tina. There on the door was "their" wreath. Only, it looked a little different. There in the middle was a single light that glowed so softly.

Tina ran up to the door. There, taped next to the wreath, was a note. She took down the note and read aloud, "To a special family: We borrowed your wreath to add a little something special for you. The wreath is round and eternal, as is Christ's love for us. The branches are green for life eternal, red berries for the blood He shed for us and a bow on top that binds His love for all. We placed a light in the center to represent His glory that He spreads and the example He is to all. You, too, have been an example to our family. You, too, have shown a never-ending love. Please let this simple, yet heartfelt gift let you know how much we love and appreciate your example and welcoming light to lead our way. We love you. Your neighbors."

Tina's eyes swelled with tears. This was one of the best gifts that could have been given to her and her family. Tina looked at the lighted wreath and made a vow that she would always be the light to lead others.

 

'CHRISTMAS STORY'

By Evan Devine, 13

In a small town where everybody knew everybody, a boy by the name of Paul Victor lived. With his reddish-brown hair and his blue eyes he was the cutest boy around. But he also had a tragic story that would send chills down your spine.

Eight years ago he was found in a California valley. He was located 50 feet from a overturned car and was wrapped with a blanket, a bottle by his side. Unfortunately the car was burned and there were no papers, registration forms or any other clue to who Paul's parents were. After being found by a couple, he was taken straight to the hospital. They named him Paul Victor, meaning "little conquerer." A week later he was sent to Whitaker Orphanage, where he has lived for seven years.

Looking out the window, watching the snow fall, Paul thought of how this was his favorite time of year. He could only wish that he had a true family. Interrupting his thoughts was the sound of jingle bells on the door. A couple, around their mid-40s, looked curiously around before being greeted by Ms. Isabelle, also known as the director of the orphanage. Paul learned that the couple was interested in adopting a child. A big smile came across his face and he got up to greet the couple. The couple was impressed by the boy and believed they would be back.

Dec. 1 arrived soon and Paul woke up from the sound of Little Anne's cry. Around midday the same couple from the previous week arrived. They advised Ms. Isabelle they wanted to adopt Paul as soon as possible. The next day papers were signed and Paul went home with his new family. He was as happy as ever. He had his own room, his own TV and clothes that fit him. But every day that went by, he wished he was with his birth parents. As Christmas grew closer he decided what he wanted. He didn't want some kind of toy, nor a bike. He wanted his birth parents.

Dec. 24 rolled on by and Paul's "new parents" informed him that they couldn't fulfill his Christmas wish. After a strange call was made by his "new mom," she told Paul that they had to return him to the orphanage. Paul couldn't believe this. Without saying another word she dropped him off at the orphanage and took off with tears in her eyes. When he walked into the place he never thought he'd see again, Ms. Isabelle almost appeared as she had been expecting him. She told him someone was there to see him. A couple in their late 40s introduced themselves as Kermeth and Vickie. They informed him that they had lost their son eight years ago in a California valley. Without another word he knew he had met his wonderful parents. But Paul also realized what had happened: It was the miracle of Christmas.

 

'BE GOOD FOR GOODNESS SAKE'

By Randy Anderson

Marcella felt the cold wind and rain pelt her face as she made her way past the bus stop. She had experienced storms such as this many times before in her life, but never had it seemed to bite as hard against her wrinkled skin as it did on this frozen December day. Most days, she would join the haggard bus riders, making their way to and from work, or heading for some Christmas shopping, but today she just could not face the thought of being forced into a conversation, especially if it included any mention of Christmas. She had given up on Christmas six years earlier, when her husband had passed away. Now, it was just another day, another mark on the calander.

The news from her doctor was all the conversation she could stand today. After months of radiation, Dr. Andrews informed her that her cancer had indeed returned, this time with little chance of any news that would be considered positive. Lonely and with all of her hopes eradicated, Marcella decided to trudge the few blocks to her modest home, sorting through the tangled, intangible thoughts in her head.

Suddenly a horn sounded, as the rain increased in volume against her frail frame. Marcella recognized the voice of her next-door neighbor, Scott, a tall, gangly fellow whose acquaintance was mostly hellos and goodbyes across their driveways.

"Need a ride?" hastened Scott, and although not wanting conversation, Marcella found herself agreeing to the warm, dry comfort of the car. "Thank you," she calmly replied as she slid into the front seat.

"Have you been bad or good, Mrs. Hensley?"

Marcella felt her heart skip a beat and before thinking, she exclaimed, "What?"

"Have you been bad or good?" the voice repeated, more excited this time. With a nervous laugh, Marcella realized with relief that the voice was coming from Tommy, her neighbor's toddler, strapped in his car seat behind her.

"Well, Tommy, I haven't really given much thought to it," she replied.

"Santa is comin' to my house on Christmas, 'cause my daddy says I've been good!" said the little guy from his seat.

Tears began to well up in Marcella's tired eyes as she recalled the excitement she used to have during Christmas. She remembered when she was a little girl, wondering if Santa was watching her every move, wondering if she really believed in Santa as she grew, and now, as a senior citizen, wondering if she really believed in the Christmas spirit at all. The joy in this little toddler's voice made her realize that she did have something to believe in -- the wonderment of the unknown future.

A small voice called out from the car seat, "Don't cry, Mrs. Hensley, you still have four more days 'til Santa comes, four more days to be good! Santa brings gifts for old people, too!"

"I'm sorry," said the boy's father with chagrin. "Tommy is just so excited about Christmas this year, he is hard to contain. I hope he didn't upset you today." He pulled into her driveway to drop her off at her door.

"Oh, no, don't be sorry, Scott," she replied as she prepared to open her car door. "Your little Tommy has brought back to me what Christmas is all about, and it is just what I needed today. I haven't thought much about this season for years. Thank you for the ride, and Merry Christmas.

"And Tommy, I know Santa will be good to you, too, and I promise I'll be good! Merry Christmas!"

 

'HOMELESS FOR THE HOLIDAYS'

By Ileana Lim, 11

Jeremy thought as he walked to his home, a beaten-up cardboard box. Jeremy Johnson was his name, and he was not always the homeless man that he is today. He used to be one of the most successful men in the business world, until he went bankrupt.

"Look at me now. What have I done to myself?" he thought as he walked "home," bundled up in tattered sheets.

He crouched down as he reached his cramped home. He had just gone for a walk and to beg on the street as he did every day, only to receive less than $20 a day. Every day he thought of his life, his destroyed life. He only wished that he could go back in time and start everything in his entire life over, to a new start. A lone tear dripped down his nearly frozen cheek.

"The weather must be about 40 degrees," he thought to himself.

He bundled up in more rags and started to drift off, sobbing himself to sleep, when he noticed a man. A man dressed in regular clothes, much better than his and not worn out like his. A man who was about to do the nicest thing done for Jeremy in years.

"Um ... hello ... sir," he said hesitantly. "I saw you and ... I want to help you, sir."

Jeremy wiped a tear from his tear-stained cheeks as he looked up at the kind man with a hopeful shimmer in his reddened eyes.

Jeremy's heart raced with joy: "Really? No, No, I must be hallucinating again." He turned away from the man, who then put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder.

Jeremy whipped around in shock. This man was real! Either that, or he was dreaming again. The man helped him to his feet and walked him to his own home only a few blocks away. As he helped Jeremy into his heated and not-made-of-cardboard home, Jeremy felt the rush of hope and the feeling of his life before: a warm house and a real life. He felt the past once more pulse around him.

Jeremy was confused. "Why are you doing this for me? I don't belong here, I belong nowhere ..." he drifted off in his raspy voice.

The man replied: "It's Christmas, the time for family. No one should be left out -- no one."

Jeremy could only smile, because for once, in many years, he was happy. Jeremy felt different. He felt love and hope. He felt ... like he was home.

 

'SANTA'S NEW ELF'

By Lauren Clark, 8

Once upon a time there lived a girl named Lacey. She was asleep when she heard a noise. It was Santa! Lacey couldn't believe her eyes. She was shocked and Santa was scared. They didn't know what to say to each other.

Then Santa started talking to her. She talked to him, too. She asked Santa to be her friend. Santa said, "Yes, I will be your friend."

Santa asked her, "Can you be my elf?"

"Yes, I will," said Lacey.

Santa was glad that he got an elf. She got her presents and they were off.

It was snowing at the North Pole. It was windy, too. The entrance to the North Pole was beautiful. She saw elves dressed in red and white. She was amazed. She had never seen anything like it. Santa showed her where her locker was. She put on her elf suit and her hat.

Santa introduced her to the other elves. The other elves liked her. It was snowing at the North Pole, then Santa was off and Lacey lived happily ever after.

'A CHRISTMAS CONUNDRUM'

By Marsha Norton

"Hurry up, Lizzie," I called to my 4-year-old as we rushed to enter the church building for the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Why did it seem like she was so slow? The evening weather was 35 degrees with 20-mph winds; I wanted to quickly get inside the warm and cozy sanctuary of the church and enjoy the familiar Christmas carols that proclaimed the message of God's love to mankind. But Lizzie dawdled.

And then I spied why Lizzie was so slow. A stray cat had approached my little girl, and she was enamored with the tabby. This cat -- not even 1 year old -- did not approach my husband, Steve, or me, but instead set his sights on Lizzie. He rubbed her legs, and she returned his affection with loving head rubs. I sighed as I heard a chorus of "O Come All Ye Faithful," realizing that we'd be a few minutes late for this special service. Certainly, letting my daughter pet this forsaken feline was worth a few minutes in the cold winter weather.

Lizzie asked if he could come home with us. In a loving voice, I replied, "Enjoy the kitty for a few minutes now, Liz, as we need to get inside the church." She lovingly gave him a few more rubs, and he gazed affectionately at Lizzie like she was a queen. I knew that this cat would be gone when the service was over, so why not let my daughter enjoy Christmas Eve in her own way?

Lizzie said goodbye to her newfound friend and we resumed our trek to the warmth of the church building. We sang "Away in a Manager" and "Silent Night," and we lit candles to represent God sending Jesus to a dark and dreary world. It was one of my favorite parts of Christmas, and soon it was time to return to the dark, freezing weather.

Who should be waiting outside the church building but Lizzie's four-legged friend? She squealed with delight, "He's still here!" Indeed, the cat had been huddled in a corner, but once he saw Lizzie, he followed her through the parking lot.

"Can we take him home, Mommy?" Lizzie pleaded. My heart sank. Neither Steve nor I wanted a cat in our home. "Please, Daddy ... " Lizzie begged. "I'll take care of him." Steve and I looked at each other, neither wanting to be the one to say "no." Lizzie implored us to give this cat a warm place to spend Christmas.

After 15 minutes of telling Lizzie why we should leave the cat at the church, we finally agreed to let him spend the night at our house. Lizzie turned to her newfound friend and beamed, "You get to come to my home to get out of the cold just like baby Jesus found a warm place the night he was born."

Steve and I then realized that we had just inherited a cat as a part of our family.

 

'THE JOURNEY'

By Sondra Litz

The first thing he noticed when he was helped off the truck was how warm it was -- a lot warmer than the mountains of Oregon, where he was from.

He and the others had speculated on where they would ultimately end up. The trip seemed to take forever, their bodies packed together in the darkness. The older ones whispered comfort to the younger ones.

It felt so good to be out of that truck. His fears disappeared as the sun warmed him and he stretched, taking a deep breath. It was going to be OK. He was optimistic. His mother taught him that. She was one of the wise ancient ones. Few had lived as long as her. She told him to enjoy each day he was given as a gift from the creator of the universe -- good advice he was glad to have on this day, so far away from home.

As darkness fell, he and the others were amazed to see hundreds of colorful lights appear around them. It was so beautiful, like the stars came down to earth. People arrived with their laughing children and music drifted on the air.

"Mommie, mommie, can we have this one?" a little girl with curly brown hair and wearing a Christmas sweater with Rudolph on it begged. She touched the lower branches of the 7-foot Douglas fir, bending her head way back to see the top. It was the prettiest tree she'd ever seen and smelled so good.

"Why this one?" her mother asked, coming over to look at the tree, checking if it was symmetrical and full. There were better-looking trees on the lot, she thought to herself.

" 'Cause the tree said hello to me. I heard it." She smiled up at her mom.

Her daughter had such an imagination, which, when she thought about it, was probably her fault. She was always reading to her of magical forests and unicorns. Who was to say, maybe the tree's spirit had said hello. She laughed at the notion but bought the tree anyway and hauled it home. They spent the evening decorating it with twinkle lights and shiny ornaments. Finally, she lifted the child up to put the Christmas angel on the top. Perfect. They sat Indian-style on the floor together, admiring their efforts.

He stood there in the corner tall and proud. He could feel the pretty ornaments sitting lightly on his branches and the garland wrapped 'round and 'round. It was not so different from nature's decorations, the birds resting on his branches or the snowflakes dusting him with white. The love in the child's eyes as she gazed upon him in awe warmed his evergreen soul. Yes, the tree thought to himself, it was going to be OK.

 

'TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS'

By Rudy Foresta

Walking into the kitchen, Andy saw his mother putting the finishing touches on cleaning up and sat down in front of the cake and milk waiting for him.

"Mom," Andy asked, "is there anything you want for Christmas?" He watched her at the sink as her shoulders shuddered a bit, then straightened her back as she slowly turned around. The look on her face, at once sad, turned into a smile as she said: "Yes, there is. I want to see your report card with all A's, I want to see your room straightened and I want to see the basement cleaned up, like you promised to do."

"Come on, Mom," Andy replied. "Could you give me a hint?"

"I'm sorry, Andy. Give me some time to think about it," she said.

"OK, Mom, but don't wait too long."

She bent down to give him his goodnight kiss and he started out of the kitchen when his mother called, "Andy, dress nice for your class picture tomorrow."

Andy walked up the stairs, his mind at once racing around as he tried to gather his thoughts. He suddenly had the urge to find that box of pictures Uncle Tommy gave them of the Labor Day family picnic at the lake by the family cabin. He climbed into bed with a smile on his face and contentment in his mind. He knew what to give her for Christmas!

The next day after school, he hurried to the basement and started looking around as to where that shoebox of pictures would be. Moving to the far corner where the old kitchen table now stood, he saw the box among other boxes piled together. He sat in the same chair where his mother spent many hours, looking at the many mementos of the three of them when Dad was here. Rummaging through the picnic pictures, he found the one he liked best -- the one of his mother standing by the lake with bright sunlight all around her, making her hair sparkle and her skin glow.

Searching further, he found the box containing the pictures of Dad, many of them with him wearing his military uniform with all the medals and ribbons. It's been almost four years since his dad was killed in Iraq. "I was only 10 years old," Andy thought. He finally found the one he was looking for, the one with Dad smiling at the camera as he stood in the same place as Mom did by the lake. He placed them both in an old empty envelope and slipped the envelope between the pages of one of his school books.

Christmas morning finally arrived. With his heart beating, Andy carried the brightly wrapped package downstairs. He placed the package in the very front of the tree. That Mr. Norton at his photography studio was sure a nice man, Andy thought, as he looked at the package.

"All right, Andy," his mother said, walking into the living room. "You can open yours first."

"No, Mom. I want you to open your gift first. I had it made special for you. Please, Mom, I want to make sure you'll like it. It's one you can't take back or exchange."

"Well, you sound very insistent. Are you sure?"

"Come on, Mom. Please?"

"How can I refuse?" his mother said, as Andy placed the package on her lap. Andy sat on the floor by her feet as she unwrapped the package. As the paper was falling to the floor, Andy heard the gasp as his mother held her breath with wide-open eyes that glittered like diamonds.

In her hands she held a silver-edged frame, holding a picture of her husband, herself and Andy as if it was taken yesterday.

"Oh, Andy. This is beautiful, so beautiful. How in the world did you do this? Your dad, you and I, together at the lake and you all grown up like you are right now. It's unbelievable. How can this be? Tell me how you did this."

Andy could see the tears starting to fall, but couldn't understand why.

"Don't cry, Mom. This isn't what I wanted to happen. You're always looking so sad. I wanted this to cheer you up, make you happy. I don't want to see you cry anymore."

She dropped out of the chair and threw her arms around Andy. "Oh, Andy, my son. For once, these are tears of joy -- tears of love for you. These are not tears of sadness. What you have given me is a gift I will treasure all my life. Please, you've got to tell me how you did this."

Together they sat on the floor with their backs against the chair as she sat with one arm around his shoulders and the other holding the silver frame.

"Well," Andy started, "you know the Norton Photography Studio down by the market? I went in there with a picture of you and one of Dad and asked him if he could make two pictures the same size and put them in a double frame as a Christmas present for you. I told him about Dad being killed four years ago in Iraq. I told him I wanted the two of you together. I said I think I have enough money to pay him. He looked at the pictures for a while and then asked me if he could take a picture of me. He told me it would help him to do what he wanted to do. We went into the back where he had all this equipment and big cameras, and he took a picture of me. He said it would be a surprise. He said to come back in two days and he would have the picture ready. When I went back he already had it framed and I told him I hope it doesn't cost too much. He said, "Don't worry, it's my Christmas gift to you and your mother."

"So, here we are, Mom. You, me and Dad, together for Christmas!"

 

'HER FAVORITE PRESENT'

By Meg Silberschein

Charlotte lies snuggled in bed at her grandmother's house, waiting for the sound she knows will come. In her hand is a small teddy bear made of soft white yarn -- or at least he was when she was originally given Mr. Bearkins, but now he has turned into a well-loved beige. She rubs his paw against her chin gently as she waits.

It's Christmas morning and 5-year-old Charlotte is still sleepy from staying up late. It's her family's tradition to open the non-Santa presents on Christmas Eve.

Charlotte loves Christmas Eve and all the presents she received, but she loves Christmas morning even more. Soon she will hear what she's waiting for and she'll go downstairs for her favorite present. She's just beginning to drift off to sleep when it comes -- the soft sound of a cabinet opening in the kitchen and the sound of coffee beans being ground.

It's the sound of her grandmother preparing for the start of her day. Charlotte can't wait any longer. She pulls back the covers and slips into her new slippers and robe because it's cold upstairs. She brings Mr. Bearkins along as she walks down the stairs quietly, careful not to step on any of the creaky spots. She doesn't want to wake anyone.

The windows are frosted over at the edges and outside there's a new snowfall. It's so beautiful that she must stop and look. The snow twinkles in the early morning light like diamonds on a white blanket, but Charlotte doesn't want to spend too much time looking -- not with her present waiting.

"Hello sweetheart, Merry Christmas! Come and give me a hug," her grandmother calls to her as she enters the kitchen.

Charlotte is held by the warmth of her grandmother's embrace. Charlotte can smell the coffee and the special almond soap her grandmother uses. She breathes it in. It's a smell she loves with all her heart. Charlotte holds onto her grandmother until she decides she has had enough, but just before she fully lets go, she squeezes one last time.

"I found this on the table. I think Santa left it for you." Her grandmother pulls a small box, wrapped in a shiny silver paper and white velvet ribbon, from her robe pocket. "Charlotte, why don't you take it to the table and open it. I'll make us our special Christmas breakfast."

Charlotte sits and watches her grandmother prepare their traditional breakfast of oatmeal with brown sugar. She has forgotten the beautiful package in her hands as they have their conversation. It's this moment she has waited all night for, it's the pink satin of her grandmother's robe, not the red velvet of Santa's, which has kept her up. This special time with her grandmother, before the rest of the house wakes up and she has her all to herself, is what she looks forward to each year and will remember for the rest of her life as her favorite Christmas present.

 

'MAGIC MOMENT'

By Heidi Janesin

Maggie enveloped herself in the big overstuffed living room chair as the fire, warm and glowing, cast dancing shadows about the cozy room. Snow silently piled up against trees, frost clung to the big picture window that Maggie kept her eyes focused on. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and again she determined to stay awake for the magic moment.

Ever since that lunchtime in third grade when Jerilyn tried to blast open the truth about Santa, Maggie fought and fought for Santa. There had to be! Who brought all those wonderful skates and bikes and fun things under the tree? "Your mom and dad buy it," Jerilyn had stated with authority.

No, no, no. Parents got you socks and pajamas and slippers. Santa brought that warm fuzzy feeling when the family opened presents and hugged each other. Santa brought the crayons and coloring books, Colorforms and Tinker Toys, Erector Sets and trains. Then Jerilyn's friends joined in, claiming she was right.

Laughed into silence, Maggie left the lunch table, brooding, sullen. They had to be wrong. Only Santa could bring the happiness, the niceties people showed at holiday time.

So Maggie sat, fighting heavy eyelids in the drowsing warmth, waiting, steadfast in her belief. She reveled in Christmas, the aroma of cinnamon and baked apples wrapped around her like a soft, flannel blanket. Fuzzbutt the cat draped herself over the sofa back, firelight glinting off her tabby fur.

The grandfather clock's rhythmic drone carried Maggie off into a sound sleep, the fire dwindling to glowing embers. She was in third grade again, Jerilyn and her friends taunting her about her childish belief in Santa, Maggie in tears.

She had to stay awake! Sitting in her living room with the huge tree all decorated and gaily lit, smelling delicately of fresh pine. Then, a sudden flash of bright light as if a lightning bolt struck, blinding Maggie! Rubbing her eyes, she tried to focus on the scene before her. Slowly she made out a blurry figure in red and white, brightly polished black boots and a smile that surely lit up the room.

Happy blue eyes shone through a flock of white whiskers. Stunned into silence, Maggie sat straight up as he came closer towards her, Fuzzbutt leaping to the floor, coiling her fluid body around his red velveted leg. He said nothing as he reached out and gently touched Maggie's cheek with a velvety gloved hand, moving over her heart.

Maggie felt that familiar burst of warmth inside, radiating as if a starburst throughout her whole body, fingers and toes tingling. That fuzzy feeling she got on Christmas mornings when her family gathered to share the joy and closeness of the day. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone. And, as in all past years, and likely years to come, Maggie knew there was always Santa in everyone's heart, whether you believed he was a real person or not. Next year, when she would be 30 years old, she would sit here again, waiting for another magic moment.