Honey, grow old with me...

Honey, grow old with me...
April 17th, was our 46th anniversary, thanks God

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

JESUS, IT'S YOUR SEASON, NOT MINE.... and a really neat story about a LITTLE GRANDSON



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On Santa's Team
Author Unknown
Santa's Team

My grandma taught me everything about Christmas. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," jeered my sister. "Even dummies know that!"
My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.
"No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second cinnamon bun.
"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough; but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. I didn't see a price tag, but ten dollars ought to buy anything. I put the coat and my ten-dollar bill on the counter and pushed them toward the lady behind it. She looked at the coat, the money, and me. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" she asked kindly. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobbie. He's in my class, and he doesn't have a coat." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it ... Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Suddenly, Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell twice and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobbie. He looked down, looked around, picked up his present, took it inside and closed the door. Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: Ridiculous!
Santa was alive and well ... AND WE WERE ON HIS TEAM!
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I want to THANK my sister, Betty Jo Goff for sending me an elf on a shelf to share with the kids at work. At first only one sweet little girl ask me for an elf (so that they can "find" it every morning) She was so excited about the idea. Then another little one, with an elf hat on herself, ask me "why we didn't do the Elf on a Shelf thing??" I looked, but everywhere others said they had found one, were sold out.. So, thankfully my sweet Sister came to the rescue, and we all appreciate her for doing so!  We haven't decided what to name him yet, but will post it once we do.. I know just how special it is to the kids.. so well worth the time!

Praying for you and yours, to the One and only One Jesus. Praying that each of you will be blessed, spiritually, physically, emotionally, mentally, financially and with His awesome and unchanging love, forgiveness, grace, mercies, guidance, and a special blessing for each of you that only HE knows you need. Praying for my sister, that she will get over her pretty constant upset tummy, along with some other reasons. Praying for all those that are sick, that they will be well. Praying for everyone with cancer, eb, and all other types of diseases.. God please send a cure, and grant comfort and inner peace, please and thank You. GIVING THANKS FOR EVERYTHING HE DOES FOR EACH AND EVERY ONE. THANKS FOR HIS LOVE, FAMILIES, WARM HOMES, JOBS, AND ALL THE MANY BLESSINGS OF ALL TYPES. GIVING HIM OUR LOVE, PRAISE, HONOR, AND GLORY IN JESUS HOLY NAME, AMEN.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Where can I buy a print of Santa Kneeling at the manger? Santa says Jesus this is your season not mine