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Photo from Inmagine |
The traditions of the season are so special. I so enjoyed going caroling with friends from church, picking out the perfect tree and then decorating it with special ornaments that each held special memories, setting up the nativity under the tree and reading the story of the first Christmas in the Bible, baking and making candies for family, friends, and neighbors, hanging stockings, sending and receiving Christmas cards, the shopping for the perfect presents and then wrapping them with beautiful papers and ribbons, having hot chocolate and spiced cider as we nibbled on the homemade treats.
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Liesl and the "real" Santa when she was 3 years old |
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Photo from Inmagine |
Now that Liesl is grown and has a home of her own, many of the traditions of the past are no longer carried on here. There is no need to put out cookies and milk for Santa, no annual visits to share Christmas wishes with Santa, there is no little girl to whom to give the special Christmas Eve present. But the magic is not gone. The smells, the tastes, the sounds are all still there, and the special feelings of love and gratitude continue to grow. I'm so grateful for sweet memories of Christmases past, and for a loving Heavenly Father that sent His son, even Jesus Christ, to be our Savior.
Many years ago, I saw a poem that touched me deeply. I later wrote it in calligraphy and used it as a Christmas gift for friends. I'd like to share it here with you now.
He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still another obscure village, where He worked in a carpenter
shop until He was thirty.
And then for three years He was an itinerant preacher.
He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a house.
He never went to college.
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where He was born.
He did none of the things one usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but Himself.
He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion turned against Him.
His friends ran away.
He was turned over to his enemies, and went through the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves.
While He was dying, His executioners gambled for His clothing, the only
property He had on earth.
When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a
friend.
Twenty centuries have come and gone, nd today He is the central figure of the
human race, and the leader of mankind's progress.
All the armies that have ever marched,
All the navies that have ever sailed,
All the parliaments that have ever sat,
All the kings that have ever reigned, put together have not affected the life of
mankind on this earth as much as that ONE SOLITARY LIFE.
May you be blessed with the choicest blessings of life and may you always remember the true meaning of Christmas.
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Photo from Inmagine |