30 December 2009

just amazing

So I have been thinking about writing this blog for a while now and last night I just kept thinking about it and couldn't get it out of my head.  You know those truly AMAZING people who have left great impressions on your mind and heart - I would like you to meet one of those AMAZING people who has done this to me.

My blog is about one of the most AMAZING people I know - she lived in my ward when we were growing up and I graduated with her so I have known her for a while.  We recently in August got back in contact again (thanks to FaceBook) and I am so glad! 

Rachael is truly an amazing person to me - even though we didn't "hang out" or whatever in high school she was ALWAYS nice and kind to me.  I absolutely adore her.  She is married to a great guy (I think I have told her that a handful of times) and they have 2 of the most adorable little guys you could ever imagine.  Rachael always seems so positive and happy - I know she probably has down days - but she NEVER EVER lets it affect her relationship with her cute little family.  She might not have a perfect house but I know that her boys (her hubby included) will NEVER feel unloved - she is always doing things for and with them.  No matter how bad her day has been, how exhausted she may be or how much pain she may be feeling - she always takes the time to show just how much she loves her family.  Anyone who has been around them knows what I mean - because you can feel it. 


People like Rachael are such an encouragement to me - I am so grateful that we are in contact again it has been fun getting to know her more and her family - I hope that more fun times are to come.

(image by pure photography)

24 December 2009

Luke 2:16-20


And they came with ahaste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. 
And all they that heard it awondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
But Mary kept all these things, and apondered them in her heart. 
And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

23 December 2009

Luke 2:15


And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

22 December 2009




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Stories and Nativities

So I haven't been very good at posting stories with the pictures of my nativities - so the next few posts will be of my nativities. enjoy

Luke 2:13-14


And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
aGlory to God in the highest, and on earth bpeace, good will toward men. 

21 December 2009

Luke 2:12


And this shall be a asign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

20 December 2009

Luke 2:11


For unto you is aborn this day in the city of David a bSaviour, which is Christ the cLord.

19 December 2009

Luke 2:10


And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you agood tidings of great bjoy, which shall be to all people.

18 December 2009

Luke 2:9


And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the aglory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

17 December 2009

My Ring




Luke 2:8


And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

16 December 2009

Luke 2:7


And she brought forth her afirstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the binn.

15 December 2009

Luke 2:6


And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

14 December 2009

An Adventure with Grandma

 An Adventure with Grandma
author unknown
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. 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," she jeered. "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. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

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 world-famous, 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 Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out or recess during the winter.  His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby 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 Bobby 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. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." 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 (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby 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 Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then 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 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 Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby 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.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

Luke 2:5


To be taxed with Mary his aespoused wife, being great with child.

13 December 2009

Boys and Burlap


 Boys and Burlap
author unkown
I suppose being a shepherd in Christmas pageants of yore has conditioned me to associate burlap with the Christmas story. You know, that unbleached burlap you buy in craft stores that gives off a sweet "new burlap" smell. Mothers sew it into simple, pullover garments that cover boys' blue jeans and striped T-shirts. Girls get to be angels in white satin dresses, with wings and halos. But boys in their burlap tell the story of Christmas far better than girls in their satin. Let me tell you why.

Angels are clean. Angels are beautiful. They seem almost otherworldly, since girl angels always seem to know their parts better than do boy shepherds. The angelic satin stuff goes pretty well in most Christmas pageants. The problems come with the burlap part

Do you know what real-life shepherds were like? Townspeople looked down on them. "Herdsmen!" they'd huff derisively. Shepherds would work with sheep all day, sleep outside with the animals at night, and then come into town dirty, sweaty, and smelly. Like boys. Tradesmen in the marketplace would be polite enough. Shopkeepers would wait on them, but everybody was happy when they moved along. Burlap fits the part. It really does.

Angels get clouds and the Hallelujah Chorus for props. Shepherds get a stable. Maybe cattle lowing has a bit of romance. But conjure up the smells and the filth. No stainless steel dairy palace this, but a crude barn, with good reason for straw on the floor. Not exactly the setting you'd choose for a birth if you had the luxury of planning ahead.

But Mary and Joseph have no such luxury. They lumber into Bethlehem as the winter sun is making long afternoon shadows, bone tired after a four-day journey from Nazareth, wet with perspiration under the wool wraps that shield them against the chill wind. No cellular phones to call ahead for a reservation or wangle an invitation from some distant relative. Just overwhelming weariness.

"Innkeeper," says the taller boy playing Joseph, "do you have any vacancies? My wife is going into labor. We've got to find a place to stay the night out of this wind."

The innkeeper shakes his head.

"Nothing?" says Joseph, his voice husky. "We've got to find a place. Anyplace!"

The innkeeper gestures and mumbles something.

"A stable?" Joseph looks over at the Mary, whose robe is distended with padding to simulate pregnancy. Mary nods, but you can see the pain in her face.

And so the innkeeper leads the pair to the stable, moves a few things out of the corner and reaches for the coins Joseph gives him

This isn't exactly picturesque and the pageant director is struggling as satin gives way to broken tools hanging from the walls. Large gaps under the stable door tease the wind into blowing tiny bits of straw into faces and hair.

Christmas plays always skip over the actual birth, so the next scene opens with scroungy shepherds peering in the door. The satin angel has told them to look for a newborn, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a feeding trough, so they have checked all the stables in town.

And here they find what they have sought: young couple, reclining exhausted in a barn, and a precious little baby, all wrapped up and lying in a manger, just as the angel said.

They push open the stable door to get a better look, and Joseph, hearing the squeak of dry hinges, stirs. "What do you want," he calls.

"The baby, we've come to see the baby," they reply, and then file one-by-one into the barn and kneel on the floor before the manger. The older shepherd removes his headdress in reverence, and other shepherds fumble to do the same.

In the silence and flickering light you can see tears of joy coursing down their cheeks. No Christmas pageant ever shows that part, but it happened, I'm sure.

"How did you know to come?" Joseph asks after a moment.

"Angels told us," is the reply. "They said that tonight in Bethlehem-town would be born a Savior, who is Messiah, the Lord."

"There was thousands ... millions of them angels," recites a young shepherd, whose mother spent all afternoon coaching him on his single line.

Angels seem appropriate to the birth of God's son. But straw and sweat and burlap do not. Why, I ask, would the Son of God Most High enter life amidst the rubble of human existence, at the lowest rung of society, in obscurity and at the stable-edge of rejection even before he is born?

And as hard as I think about it, I come back to one truth. God wanted to make it explicitly clear that He came to save each of us. He comes to the slimy, dark corners of our existence, the desperateness, the loneliness, the rejection, the pain. He comes to unswept barns and cold nights of despair. He comes because he understands them. He knows them intimately and came for the very purpose of delivering us from those raw stables to real Life.

Life that angels proclaim and humans long for. To be loved, actually loved by God in spite of ourselves. God reaches out to us in our misery, not just at an occasional moment of high spirituality. God, who sees us at our worst, offers us His best.

Curtains close, and the crowd stands and applauds. Backstage, Sally is removing her white satin costume while Billy yanks off his headdress and burlap as fast as he can.

"Don't tear it," says the harried pageant director. "We'll need it next year."

Yes, you will need that burlap again, for without it the watchers may just miss the true lesson of Christmas.

Luke 2:4


And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called aBethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

12 December 2009

2 Christmas Poems


 Little Christmas Carollers
author unknown
We are a band of carollers,
We march through frost and snow,
But care not for the weather
As on our way we go.

At every hall or cottage
That stands upon our way,
We stop to give the people
Best wishes for the day.

We pray a merry Christmas,
Made bright by Christmas cheer,
With peace, and hope, and gladness
And all they may hold dear.

And for all those that happen
To pass us on our way
We have a smile, and wish them
A merry Christmas-day.

------------------------------

This Year At Christmas
by Jean Penner
This year at Christmas, I'll wander,
To a snowy, glistening place,
Where God watches warm through the window,
Blessing my life with His grace.

This road which I'm eager to travel,
Leads home, to my heart deep within,
For Christmas comes just as a snowflake,
Soft little sprinkles of Him.

The gentle lights out on the corner,
Shine soft o'er the hills which I trod,
Reminding me even in darkenss,
I walk in the comfort of God.

Falling so gentle the snowflakes,
God's grace drifts over the land,
Like a comforting blanket of love,
Our lives are wrapped up in His hands.

His peace warms my soul like a mitten,
It envelops my fears like a glove,
Keeping me warm in His presence,
I know I am safe in His love.

As silence echoes around me,
In wonder, the message I hear,
The whispers of God which surround me,
Telling me that He is near.

Grace falling soft on my shoulders,
Peace shining bright on the snow,
Hope in the song of the angels,
God's watching His children, I know.

This year at Christmas I'll travel,
Down a road to my heart deep within,
For Christmas comes just as a snowflake,
Soft little sprinkles of Him.

Luke 2:3


And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

11 December 2009

A Doll and a White Rose


A Doll and a White Rose
by V.A. Bailey

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I wished that I could just sleep through Christmas. But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys. And wondered if the grandkids would even play with them.

I found myself in the doll aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy about 5 holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman and he called his aunt by name and said,

"Are you sure I don't have enough money?" She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it. The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle. The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for.

He said, "it is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it."

I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it.

He said "No, Santa can't go where my sister is" "I have to give the doll to my Momma to take to her"

I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said "She has gone to be with Jesus. My Daddy says that Momma is going to have to go be with her."

My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Momma not to go yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store"

Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he had taken at the front of the store and said, "I want my Momma to take this with her so she don't ever forget me. I love my Momma so much and I wish she did not have to leave me. But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister."

I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet. While he was not looking I reached into my purse and pulled out a hand full of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?"

He grew excited and said , "Yes, I just know it has to be enough" So I slipped my money in with his and we began to count it. And of course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you Jesus for giving me enough money."

The boy continued, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll so Momma can take it with her to give to my sister. And he heard my prayer. I wanted to ask him for enough to buy my Momma a white rose, but I didn't ask him, but he gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Momma. She loves white roses so very very much"

In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping in a totally different spirit than when I had started. And I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl and the Mother was in serious condition. The family was deciding on rather to remove the life support. Now surely this little boy did not belong with that story.

Two days later I read in the paper where the family had disconnected the life support and the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy and just kept wondering if the two were somehow connected. Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home where the young woman was. And there she was holding a lovely white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store.

I left there in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother was over whelming. And in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of that little boy to pieces.

Luke 2:2




(And this ataxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

10 December 2009

Serving Breakfast


Serving Breakfast
by Jacob S. Fullmer

I was a newly arrived full-time missionary in Connecticut, and my companion and I were serving in a small ward during the first round of holidays I spent on my mission. I hadn’t yet learned the dietary value of becoming friends with a few of the members, and my first Thanksgiving resulted in no invitation and no dinner. Our mission president took pity on us, and we ended up being the only missionaries to spend Thanksgiving at the mission home. We were grateful but a little embarrassed.

We started putting ourselves out there early for the coming Christmas. Our shameful solicitations landed three full meals at three different homes. Pancakes for breakfast, Lithuanian food for lunch, and a Jamaican feast for dinner. Our stomachs were bursting. I was still an inexperienced missionary and thought that was what Christmas on a mission was all about.

During the next year, however, the Lord was able to teach me how to keep the spirit of Christmas. We served among a humble group of people living in nearly abandoned milling towns scattered along small rivers. And we loved serving among these people immensely.

We decided to share our Christmas with an investigator, Alice, and her family. Alice supported her three teenage boys, a daughter, and a granddaughter all with her income working at a fast food place. Needless to say, her budget was tight. So instead of focusing on ourselves at Christmas, we decided to serve someone else.

My companion at the time, Elder Werner, felt there were basically two things that would bring joy into the world: the gospel and good food. When we showed up on Christmas morning to cook a simple breakfast, we were hailed like Old Saint Nick himself. Her extended family was there, and everyone was laughing, joking around, and wanting to help us cook. Since our families were allowed to call on Christmas, Alice and my mom were able to talk on the phone together. Watching her speak with my family was far more of a gift than the three meals I participated in the year before. It connected someone I was serving to my family and helped my family share my mission with me. The morning was filled with a feeling of familiarity that was almost tangible. I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

During that morning, I came to appreciate the true spirit of Christmas. And it has everything to do with the example of our Savior and the teachings of the gospel. The excitement wasn’t about us as missionaries; it wasn’t even about our gesture of making breakfast. That morning was about sons and daughters of God simply sharing with one another. I wasn’t given a feast of food, but my soul was full of joy.

Christmas is a time of giving and receiving. While it is always fun to be on the receiving side, I learned that the teaching “it is better to give than to receive” (see Acts 20:35) may be an over-rung bell, but it will never fail to sound true.

Luke 2:1


And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all athe world should be btaxed.

09 December 2009

A Gift of Love


A Gift of Love
by Chastmier Okoro
After the collapse of my father’s catering business, my family faced a serious financial situation. I remember my mother coming home with tears in her eyes, not wanting to tell us what was wrong even after I asked her what the problem was. Soon we had to move into a small one-room apartment because that was what we could afford.

Before then, the Christmas season had always been a time of intense cooking, new clothes, parties, visits to interesting places, and gifts to be shared and received. My mum had a knack for being, as we called her, “Mother Christmas.” She loved to give, and each Christmas she would enthusiastically and lovingly share with those around her. As we got older, thinking of others more than we thought of ourselves became a trait that we also tried to develop.

But that year we did not know what to do. Mum became concerned because it would be our first Christmas outside of our own home. She worried because there was nothing she could think of to share with others. However, we encouraged her because we knew that we could, in our own small way, do something to spread the spirit of Christmas.

Still, we were barely getting by, and we were also struggling to keep the peace in our new surroundings. Our landlady was not a Christian, and she was upset with us because we would wake up early to have family prayer and sing hymns. Our singing would awaken her because our room adjoined her room. Often she complained, so we tried to sing softly and not disturb her. When she saw that we weren’t going to stop having our morning family prayers, her complaints gradually ceased.

Then a thought occurred to my dad. He felt that we should sing Christmas carols to our landlady as our Christmas gift to her. Everyone was thrilled with the idea—except for me. I strongly objected, reminding my family of the complaints she had made over our family prayers. I suggested that we sing for someone who would appreciate it and not for her.

But my dad insisted, explaining that it would be an avenue for us to show her that we were her friends despite belonging to different religions. I had no choice but to join my family in choosing and practicing carols to sing for her.

On Christmas Eve we stood at her door and knocked. She did not open the door, and I was about to get angry and remind my dad of our wasted effort. But as I looked around, I saw that all the members of my family were smiling—they were happy about what we were doing. I felt a desire within me to experience that same feeling.

Eventually the landlady opened her door, and for a moment she did not know what to do. My dad quietly told her that we would love to sing for her and that, if it was all right, we would love to come inside her apartment. She stepped aside, and we went in. We sang all the Christmas songs we could remember—both the ones we had rehearsed and ones we had not. Soon there was a wonderful feeling in the room. Although we knew that she might not understand the meaning of the words, she smiled as we sang. She also told us that she had been feeling lonely and seeing us together made her long for her own family. Before leaving, we wished her a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. She thanked us, and we went back to our room.

As I was trying to fall asleep that night, I pondered on what had happened. It occurred to me that a real Christmas gift is not necessarily store bought or even homemade; it is actually the attitude and the desire we have to do what we can to make our fellow human beings happy. I realized that the greatest gift we can give at Christmastime doesn’t require a lot of money; instead, it is a gift of love.

That night I knew that my family had felt the spirit of Christmas by offering a small service to a lonely neighbor.

Doctrine and Covenants 76:40-41



 40 And this is the agospel, the glad btidings, which the voice out of the heavens bore record unto us—
  41 That he acame into the world, even Jesus, to be bcrucified for the world, and to cbear the sins of the dworld, and to esanctify the world, and to fcleanse it from all unrighteousness;

08 December 2009

Postponing Christmas


Postponing Christmas
by Arielle A. Sloan

Once again on December 24, my family and I will find ourselves in our little New England home. The snow will cascade outside like sifted powdered sugar. Our woodstove will glow brilliant orange with the light of burning firewood. Mom will stir dark peppermint fudge in the kitchen. Dad will study his tattered copy of the New Testament in the dining room. And my siblings will lock themselves in their bedrooms, wrapping newly purchased gifts for the family. The house will smell like fresh pine and sugar cookies, and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” will play softly in the living room.

This is the Christmas I cherish today. Unfortunately, however, I did not always appreciate this annual tradition. It was not until the year I turned 16—the year my parents postponed Christmas—that I understood what this holiday was really about.

I remember sitting at the dining room table in the heat of summer, eating a Spanish casserole dinner with my family. My mom cleared her throat during a lull in the conversation and called my name.

“Your grandmother,” she said, “is taking a tour of the Holy Land, and she invited us to come with her. Your father and I have saved up enough money to go.”

“For heaven’s sake, you guys,” I replied hastily. “You don’t need my permission to go on vacation. When is it?”

I remember my parents looking at each other for a second. While my mom bit her lip, my dad coughed and said in a quiet tone, “December.”

After a long pause, my mom said, “It’s a … Christmastime tour. We’ll be gone until December 28. Do you think you kids would … mind … if we postponed our family Christmas until then?”

I tried to maintain my composure, but inside I felt sick. “Well, sure,” I said. “I mean, I’m not going to stop you from going to the Holy Land. We’ll be fine.”

My mom smiled, my dad started eating his mashed potatoes, and our conversation went back to normal. However, as I tried to concentrate on my carrots, thoughts about Christmas kept racing through my mind. What would Christmas be like without my parents? I thought. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them from leaving, but I began to wish I could.

As the holidays loomed nearer, I found myself dwelling on Christmases past. To my great astonishment, I had much difficulty remembering any of my former gifts. I remembered family home evening Christmas carols. I remembered trying to untangle endless strands of Christmas lights with my mom. I remembered helping my dad tie our Christmas tree to the car roof with one too many Boy Scout knots. As I looked back, the realization that my parents would not be here to repeat these traditions depressed me greatly.

I spent December 23rd in New York City with my three sisters, and when my brother came on the 24th, we tried to hold a few Christmas traditions without my parents. However, it was obvious that something about the whole experience felt wrong. Dad was not there to read the Christmas story or to teach our family home evening lesson. Mom was not there to play the piano or lead our Christmas carols. Our December 25th was quiet without their laughter and love filling the home. I felt as though my whole Christmas vacation had been ruined. Without my parents, Christmas simply did not feel like Christmas.

On December 28th, however, a small miracle occurred. When Mom and Dad walked in the door at 9:00 a.m., their presence instantly lifted our spirits and brought back the much-needed feeling of Christmas to our home. We rushed to greet them at the door.

“We missed you all,” my dad said as he entered the kitchen, hauling luggage. “Everywhere we went, we said to each other, ‘We wish the kids were here to see this.’ Christmas just wasn’t the same without you.”

Hugs and kisses were exchanged. Stories and pictures were shared. The presence of my parents in that home brought our family inexplicable joy. I don’t remember what gifts I received that year. I don’t remember what we ate for breakfast that day or where we shopped at after-Christmas sales. I only remember spending time with my family and hoping that Christmas would never end.

I could hardly stand being separated from my parents on Christmas. I cannot imagine the heartbreak I would feel if I were separated from my family for eternity. I cannot imagine how my parents and siblings would feel in the next life saying, “We wish Arielle were here to see this.”

This is why Christmas is far more than a story about heavenly signs, wise men, and mangers. It is the story of our Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, whose love for us was so great that He sacrificed His own life for our eternal welfare. His atoning sacrifice gave us the opportunity to live with our families and with Heavenly Father forever. I look forward to the day when my family and I can reunite for eternity, just as we did on that morning in December. How grateful I am today for the Savior whose atoning sacrifice makes that reunion possible.

I remember three days after Christmas, when Mom and Dad walked in the door, their presence instantly lifted our spirits and brought back the much-needed feeling of Christmas to our home.

Alma 7:10



And behold, he shall be aborn of Mary, at bJerusalem which is the cland of our forefathers, she being a dvirgin, a precious and chosen vessel, who shall be overshadowed and econceive by the power of the Holy Ghost, and bring forth a son, yea, even the Son of God.

07 December 2009

Sing a Song of Christmas


Sing a Song of Christmas
by Rebecca Cornish Talley

Let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God (1 John 4:7).

Ashlie watched Mrs. Barnewald lean on her cane and walk slowly over to a padded rocking chair.

Mrs. Barnewald sat down. “I’m glad you came to visit me today, Ashlie,” she said. “You and your family are good neighbors.”

“I like to come to your house.” Ashlie looked at a photo that sat on the table next to the rocking chair.

“That’s my family in front of our home in Germany. I was born in that house,” Mrs. Barnewald said.

“Is your family still in Germany?”

“Oh, no. I’m the only one left. My husband, Hans, and I came to America many, many years ago. You know, we were never blessed with any children, and when he passed away a few years ago, he left me all alone.” Mrs. Barnewald sounded sad.

Ashlie placed her hand on Mrs. Barnewald’s wrinkled hand. “Are you lonely?” she asked.

“Sometimes, especially during the Christmas season.” Mrs. Barnewald took the photo in her hand and looked at it for a minute. “We used to have such fun at this time of year. When I was a little girl in Germany, we had many traditions. We sang songs and baked special treats.” Mrs. Barnewald smiled. “Hans and I kept some of those traditions, but now I’m too old for them.” She turned to Ashlie. “I’m glad to have a friend like you. I feel like you are my family.”

Ashlie grinned. She glanced over at the clock that hung on the wall. It was time for dinner. She got up and gave Mrs. Barnewald a hug. “I better go home.”

“Thank you so much for visiting me today.”

“See you soon.”

Ashlie kicked at the ground on her walk home. She opened the front door and heard her mom in the kitchen, so she walked in and sat at the table. Resting her head on her hands, she let out a big breath.

“How was your visit?” Mom asked.

Ashlie shrugged her shoulders. “Mrs. Barnewald is so lonely. I want to do something special for her this Christmas.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said.

Ashlie went to her room and lay on the bed, trying to think of something wonderful to do. She thought and thought and thought. Christmas was only a few days away. Ashlie thought about what Mrs. Barnewald had said about traditions. She rolled over on her stomach and saw the handout from Primary she’d set on her desk. She had an idea.

Ashlie called her Primary teacher, Sister Jensen, because she often told the class about her mission to Germany. After she talked to Sister Jensen, Ashlie knew just what to do for Mrs. Barnewald.

On Christmas Eve, Ashlie and her family went to Mrs. Barnewald’s house for a visit. They took her some turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and freshly baked cookies.

Ashlie turned down the lights in the living room and handed candles to each of her parents and to her sister. Softly, in German, they started singing “Silent Night” while Ashlie lit the candles.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft, einsam wacht
Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar;
Holder Knabe im lokkigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

Ashlie couldn’t sing the last few words because of the lump in her throat.

When they were finished, Mrs. Barnewald had tears on her cheeks and Ashlie’s chest felt warm and tingly. She couldn’t take Mrs. Barnewald back to Germany, but she could bring a little bit of Germany to Mrs. Barnewald for Christmas.

Matthew 1:18-25



18 ¶ aNow the bbirth of Jesus Christ was con this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost.
  19 Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a publick aexample, was bminded to cput her away privily.
  20 But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a adream, saying, Joseph, thou son of bDavid, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the cHoly Ghost.
  21 And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his aname bJESUS: for he shall csave his people from their sins.
  22 Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying,
  23 aBehold, a bvirgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his cname dEmmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.
  24 Then Joseph being raised from sleep did as the angel of the Lord had bidden him, and took unto him his awife:
  25 And knew her not till she had brought forth her afirstborn son: and he called his name JESUS.

06 December 2009

The Rifle


The Rifle
by Rian B. Anderson

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities.  But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn’t been enough money  to buy me the rifle that I’d wanted so bad that year for Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn’t in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn’t get the Bible, instead he bundled up and went outside. I couldn’t figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn’t worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing  in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. “Come on, Matt,” he said. “Bundle up good, it’s cold out tonight.”

I was really upset then. Not only wasn’t I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We’d already done all the chores, and I couldn’t  think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one’s feet when he’d told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn’t know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn’t going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly  climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn’t happy.

When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. “I think we’ll put on the high sideboards,” he said. “Here, help me.”

The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.

When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood — the wood I’d spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. “Pa,” I asked, “what are you doing?”

“You been by the Widow Jensen’s lately?” he asked.

The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I’d been by, but so what?

“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

“I rode by just today,” Pa said. “Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They’re out of wood, Matt.”

That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed  for another armload of wood. I followed him.

We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. “What’s in the little sack?” I asked.

“Shoes. They’re out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning.  I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without a little candy.”

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen’s pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn’t have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw   into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn’t have any money, so why was  Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn’t have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, “Who is it?”

“Lucas Miles, Ma’am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?”

Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

“We brought you a few things, Ma’am,” Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children — sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out.

“We brought a load of wood too, Ma’am,” Pa said, then he turned to me and said, “Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let’s get that fire up to size and heat this place up.”

I wasn’t the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and, much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.  In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks and so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn’t speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy filled my soul that I’d never known before. I had given at Christmas many times before,  but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone’s spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow  Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn’t crossed her face for a   long time. She finally turned to us. “God bless you,” she said. “I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us.”

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I’d never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen’s face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn’t want us to go. I could see that they missed their pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, “The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner  tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man  can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals.  We’ll be by to get you about eleven. It’ll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn’t been little for quite a spell.”  I was the youngest.  My two older brothers and two older sisters were all married and had moved away.

Widow Jensen nodded and said, “Thank you, Brother Miles. I don’t have to say, “‘May the Lord bless you,’ I know for certain that He will.”

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn’t even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and  said, “Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that  rifle for you, but we didn’t have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square.

Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand.”

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Just then the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen’s face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

1 Nephi 11:12-23



  12 And it came to pass that he said unto me: Look! And I looked as if to look upon him, and I saw him not; for he had gone from before my presence.

  13 And it came to pass that I looked and beheld the great city of Jerusalem, and also other cities. And I beheld the city of Nazareth; and in the city of aNazareth I beheld a bvirgin, and she was exceedingly fair and white.

  14 And it came to pass that I saw the aheavens open; and an angel came down and stood before me; and he said unto me: Nephi, what beholdest thou?

  15 And I said unto him: A virgin, most beautiful and fair above all other virgins.

  16 And he said unto me: Knowest thou the acondescension of God?

  17 And I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.

  18 And he said unto me: Behold, the avirgin whom thou seest is the bmother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh.

  19 And it came to pass that I beheld that she was carried away in the Spirit; and after she had been carried away in the aSpirit for the space of a time the angel spake unto me, saying: Look!

  20 And I looked and beheld the virgin again, bearing a achild in her arms.

  21 And the angel said unto me: Behold the aLamb of God, yea, even the bSon of the Eternal cFather! Knowest thou the meaning of the dtree which thy father saw?

  22 And I answered him, saying: Yea, it is the alove of God, which bsheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the cmost desirable above all things.

  23 And he spake unto me, saying: Yea, and the most ajoyous to the soul.

05 December 2009

If You're Missing Baby Jesus


If You're Missing Baby Jesus
by Jean Gietzen

About a week before Christmas the family bought a new nativity scene. When they unpacked it they found 2 figures of the Baby Jesus. “Someone must have packed this wrong,” the mother said, counting out the figures. “We have one Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two lambs, a donkey, a cow, an angel and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some set down at the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have 2.”

“You two run back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra Jesus. Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes saying that if a set is missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126. “Put on your warm coats, it’s freezing cold out there.”

The manager of the store copied down mother’s message and the next time they were in the store they saw the cardboard sign that read, “If you’re missing Baby Jesus, call 7126.”

All week long they waited for someone to call. Surely, they thought, someone was missing that important figurine. Each time the phone rang mother would say, “I’ll bet that’s about Jesus,” but it never was. Father tried to explain there are thousands of these scattered over the country and the figurine could be missing from a set in Florida or Texas or California. Those packing mistakes happen all the time. He suggested just put the extra Jesus back in the box and forget about it. “Put Baby Jesus back in the box! What a terrible thing to do said the children.” “Surely someone will call,” mother said. “We’ll just keep the two of them together in the manger until someone calls.”

When no call had come by 5:00 on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that father “just run down to the store” to see if there were any sets left. “You can see them right through the window, over on the counter,” she said. “If they are all gone, I’ll know someone is bound to call tonight.” “Run down to the store?” father thundered. “It’s 15 below zero out there!”

“Oh, Daddy, we’ll go with you,” Tommy and Mary began to put on their coats. Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered.

Tommy and Mary ran ahead as father reluctantly walked out in the cold. Mary got to the store first and pressed her nose up to the store window. “They’re all gone, Daddy,” she shouted. “Every set must be sold.”

“Hooray,” Tommy said “The mystery will now be solved tonight!” Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on his heel and headed back home. When they got back into the house they noticed that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine. “Someone must have called and she went out to deliver the figurine,” my father reasoned, pulling off his boots. “You kids get ready for bed while I wrap mother’s present.”

Then the phone rang. Father yelled “answer the phone and tell’em we found a home for Jesus.” But it was mother calling with instructions for us to come to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three blankets, a box of cookies and some milk.

“Now what has she gotten us into?” my father groaned as we bundled up again. “205 Chestnut. Why that’s across town. Wrap that milk up good in the blankets or it will turn to ice before we get there. Why can’t we all just get on with Christmas? It’s probably 20 below out there now. The wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things to do on a night like this.”

When they got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street it was the darkest one on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room and, the moment we set foot on the porch steps, my mother opened the door and shouted, “They’re here, Oh thank God you got here, Ray! You kids take those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the couch. I’ll take the milk and cookies.”

“Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?” my father asked. “We have just walked through below zero weather with the wind in our faces all the way.” “Never mind all that now,” my mother interrupted. “There is no heat in this house and this young mother is so upset she doesn’t know what to do. Her husband walked out on her and those poor little children will have a very bleak Christmas, so don’t you complain. I told her you could fix that oil furnace in a jiffy.

My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm the milk while my brother and I wrapped up the five little children who were huddled together on the couch. The children’s mother explained to my father that her husband had run off, taking bedding, clothing, and almost every piece of furniture, but she had been doing all right until the furnace broke down.

“I been doing washing and ironing for people and cleaning the five and dime,” she said. “I saw your number every day there, on those boxes on the counter. “When the furnace went out, that number kept going through my mind, 7162 7162, that is what it said on the box.” If a person is missing Jesus, they should call 7162 7162. That’s how I knew you were good Christian people, willing to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me, too. So stopped at the grocery store tonight and I called your miss’s. I’m not missing Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am missing heat. I have no
money to fix that furnace.

“Okay, Okay!” said father. “You’ve come to the right place. Now lets see. You’ve got a little oil burner over there in the dining room. Shouldn’t be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I’ll look it over, see what it needs.”

Mother came into the living room carrying a plate of cookies and warm milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee table, I noticed the figure of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the table. It was the only sign of Christmas in the house. The children stared wide-eyed with wonder at the plate of cookies my mother set before them.

Father finally got the oil burner working but said you need more oil. I’ll make a few calls tonight and get some oil. Yes, sir, you came to the right place, father grinned.

On the way home father did not complain about the cold weather and had barely set foot inside the door when he was on the phone.

Ed, hey, how are ya, Ed?” “Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here I know you’ve got that pickup truck. Do you still have some oil in that barrel on your truck? You do?

By this time the rest of the family were pulling clothes out of their closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after their bedtime when they were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs, three lamps, blankets and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, father let them ride along in the back of the truck.

No one ever did call about the missing figure in the nativity set, but as I grow older I realize that it wasn’t a packing mistake at all. Jesus saves, that’s what HE DOES.

Twas the month before Christmas

Twas the month before Christmas*
*When all through our land,*
*Not a Christian was praying*
*Nor taking a stand.*
*See the PC Police had taken away,*
*The reason for Christmas - no one could say.*
*The children were told by their schools not to sing,*
*About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.*
*It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say*
* December 25th is just a ' Holiday '.*
*Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit*
*Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!*
*CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-pod*
*Something was changing, something quite odd! *
*Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa*
*In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.*
*As Targets were hanging their trees upside down*
* At Lowe's the word Christmas - was nowhere to be found.*
*At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears*
*You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.*
*Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty*
*Are words that were used to intimidate me.*
*Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen*
*On Boxer, on Rather, on Obama & Biden!*
*At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter*
*To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.*
*And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith*
* Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace*
*The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded*
*The reason for the season, stopped before it started.*
*So as you celebrate 'Winter Break' under your 'Dream Tree'*
*Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.*
*Choose your words carefully, choose what you say*
*Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS ,
not Happy Holiday !*
Please, all Christians join together and
wish everyone you meet during the
holidays a
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Christ is The Reason for the Christ-mas Season!

A Day With Bob

Back in October Sasha let us spend the day with Bob while she was at school.  Here are the places he took us.

This is Bob at the school when the kindergartner's had all gone inside. Bob loves to go to school with Sashi and he wasn't sure if he would have any fun on a day without her.


One of the 1st things that Bob helped us do was to put air in the tire - it kept going low the entire trip.


He then bought us doughnuts for breakfast!

Look at all the kinds he chose!

Then we were in the car again - Bob is a good Monkey and always wears his seat belt.


Because Bob is a native New Mexican he wanted to show us around Old Town.  Here he is with some chili ristras.


Bob with some neat tin flags in Old Town.


This is Bob by the Old Town Cat House he wanted us to buy something for Meowe there, but we didn't.


While in Old Town we saw a giant Noah's Ark inflatable, and Bob loves animals so here he is!


Bob became friends with a Bear while we were in Old Town, but don't worry he didn't touch his new friend's hat.


After talking to Bob's friend Bear for a while, Bob decided to show us the Old Town Cathedral - it was pretty.


Then it was off to the Rattlesnake Museum.  Bob had fun showing Jessica all the turtles - mainly because he thinks it is funny how she freaks out because of them - we also saw lots of rattlesnakes of course!


Then Bob decided that it was lunch time so he took us to one of his local favorites Griff's.

Here he is with all of our food.


After we had lunch Bob decided that he had had enough fun without his beloved Sashi and took it into his own hands to drive us to her.


We met Sashi at a park where she and Bob played in the trees.

Bob loves to swing in trees especially when Sashi is close by.


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