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Over the
years, bell ringing for a charitable organization in my area has been a
blessing. Our adult Sunday School Class has taken one day a year to
assist this group with the raising of funds; and my son, David, from the
young adult class, usually helps too.
I enjoy
the generosity and cheerfulness of the adults who donate and greet us as
they go by the money collection area. Most people are friendly and full
of good will. The children are the ones who capture our hearts, though.
One-year-old babies, barely able to reach and stretch, are carefully
given coins to put in the "bucket." They are round-eyed at the sound of
the bells and so happy to be helping. Tiny fingers inch coins toward
the center of the collection container, and little voices struggle with
sounds or words. Small fists unfold to wave and radiant grins beam at
us as the infants are carried to their cars.
Toddlers
and small children make their way to us and open both hands to
contribute offerings. Some of these kids have to make several attempts
to negotiate the bucket, either dropping coins or confusing hands.
Patient adults, teaching charity, wait for their young ones to complete
their donations. With eyes shining and sweet voices greeting, they look
up to receive our thanks or wish us well. Their small faces are full of
love and joy. Christmas is new and exciting for them, and learning to
give is part of their pleasure.
My
all-time favorite was the little boy who was gift shopping for his
school friend. He had his gift money in one hand, and the donation in
the other. In his eagerness, he opened the wrong hand and looked woeful
as his gift money slid into the bucket--unreachable and irretrievable.
He explained his predicament to me, so I reimbursed his money from my
own. Then he put the donation money from the correct hand into the
bucket. He was grinning from ear to ear as he entered the mall to get
his school chum's gift.
"Oh
well," I thought, smiling, "that's one way to double your giving!"
(c)Mary-Ellen
Grisham
meginrose@charter.net |
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Re: God and Santa, by Bill Walker
Dear Bro. Johnson,
Here is a poem I wrote. I read your article written by Bill Walker, and
I agree with him. The tale about Santa Clause has broken many a child's
heart. Besides it being a lie, can cause a child to doubt about, The
Christ Child. If the very ones the children trust, to tell them the
truth, later have to explain to them that it was a lie, Will do great
harm. Like Bill, I was born during the Great Depression, and was told
that if I wouldn't be good that Santa would pass me by, or fill my
Christmas stocking with switches. I would be as good as a child could be
and still He would pass me by. Why not tell the truth and let the
children know that, because of the birth of Jesus, Christians exchanged
gifts, to show their love one toward another. Also teach them that
it's not the amount of gifts, or the value, but the thought that counts.
Joyce Blume
"CHRISTMAS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD"
by
JOYCE L. BLUME
When I was but a little child,
And Christmas Day drew near,
My mind began to wonder--
About all the strange things I did hear.
I heard about this big, fat man
His face covered with hair as white as snow,
That would come from a place called, the North Pole
And over all the earth he would go.
He traveled in a sleigh that flew,
And Oh, I wondered, "WHY?"
"It had to be drawn by Reindeer,
When there were no roads up in the sky?"
I thought to myself, "Only one, small sack,
Filled with candy and toys,
Could it really be enough,
For all the world's girls and boys?"
Now, how could he come down the chimneys,
Full of soot that sticks like gum?
I wondered too, " Why a fire was built,
The night he was to come?"
His bright, red suit would soon get black,
And I was sure he would look a fright!
Besides, no one could see him-- then,
As he traveled the dark of the night!
And how could he be in every store,
Sometimes fat and sometimes skinny?
Why, he even rode in the Christmas parade,
How could he be---soooo many?
I wondered if he could arrive back home,
In time to make the Christmas Eve, trip?
Or, how could he travel the whole world over,
When it took so long, by train or ship?"
Why was I told I had better be good,
Or Santa would pass me by?
And why did he give the poor children such a little,
Break their hearts and make them cry?
Yes, as a small child, my mind did wonder,
All these things--and more!
How confusing it all became to me,
These strange, strange tales, galore!
But, then one day a new story I heard,
Yes, the truth of what happened, that day.
How a child was born into this world,
And washed all the falsehoods away!
Oh, how happy I was that I no longer need wonder,
And that I could forgive all those who, LIED!
In telling me his name was Santa Clause,
When it was, The Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God!!
Re: Through Tear
Washed Eyes, by Kathy Pippig Harris
Kathy,
this is a beautiful story. Once again you speak for the fur critters
that can't speak for themselves, and I thank you.
Kathy
Baker |
