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Christmas Sweaters


Whitey741

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I heard a story that moved me very much and will try to re-tell it the best I can.

All of us have a similar “Gift” story and there is much to be learned from this.

 

A young man received a gift from his mother. “A sweater” Glenn said, just what every twelve year old wants. It was received with a mustered excitement that we can all imagine. It is hard to generate enthusiasm when our expectations have not been met. Needless to say the young man was disappointed. The story really began several weeks later.

Glenn’s mother came in to his room to speak to him and noticed something crumpled up in the corner. “Is that the sweater I gave you for Christmas?” she asked timidly. Realizing the hurt on her face, Glenn quickly jumped up and gathered the sweater from the floor and try as best he could to neatly fold it and put it with the clothes he actually wore. Once again the hurt was obvious even though he reassured her.

 

How many of us have received a gift from someone who loves us enough to give and responded in the same way? I would say most of us. I know I have. Sometimes we receive a gift and never consider the love and the sacrifice it may have required. How often do we only think about what it means to us.

Glenn lost his mother later that next year. That sweater is now one of the most cherished gifts he ever received. Not because the gift changed and not because his mother died. Glenn finally accepted the gift that had been given many years before and realized the love and sacrifice it took for his mother to give it.

 

 

 

Many years ago we were all given a gift, the gift of Jesus Christ. Many have received this gift with the same enthusiasm we give those “sweater” gifts. God loved us so much that he offered His son. Of all the things we want in our lives, many times the most important gifts are thrown in the corner as not important.

 

The problem is this. We never know when we will face God and he will look thrown over in the corner of our life and ask “Is that Jesus?”.

 

We have all been given the gift of Jesus, but have we accepted it? What have you done with the most important gift you will ever receive?

 

 

Jesus is the reason for the season

Merry Christmas

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  • 2 weeks later...

Very well put

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I came across this and thought it would be worth adding to this thread:

 

Is there really a Santa Claus

 

- 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 it's 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 nine 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-4 class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to 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; he just had no 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, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

 

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper. A little tag fell out of the coat, but Grandma said it was okay and just tucked it in her Bible. We finished wrapping the coat and tied the package with pretty ribbon, then wrote, "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. Grandma has long since passed on, but I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside. ....It says, $19.95

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