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: Collective Prayer

ONE MINUTE EACH NIGHT In WWII, there was an advisor to Churchill who 
organized a group of people who dropped what they were doing every night 
at a prescribed hour for one minute to collectively pray for the safety 
of England , its people and peace. There is now a group of people 
organizing the same thing here in America .

If you would like to participate: Each evening at 9:00 PM Eastern Time, 
(8:00 PM Central) (7:00 PM mountain) (6:00 PM Pacific), stop whatever 
you are doing and spend one minute praying for the safety of the United States , our troops, our citizens, and for a Godly nation. If you know 
anyone who would like to participate, please pass this along.

Someone said if Christians really understood the full extent of the 
power we have available through prayer, we might be speechless. Our 
prayers are the most powerful asset we have. Thank You, and God Bless 
America!

 

The smell of rain



At the end of this story, it gives you two options. I think you will figure out what option I chose.
 

 

 
A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery.


Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news.
That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Cesarean to deliver couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.



At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature.

Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs.

"I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could.




"There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one"




Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived.



She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.



"No! No!" was all Diana could say.

She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four.

Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away



But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw', the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love.

All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl.


There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger.



But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there.









At last, when Dana turned two months old. her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time.


And two months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.


Five years later, when Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life.


She showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end of her story.



One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing.


As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"



Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like r ain."


Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"


Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain."


Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced,
"No, it smells like Him.



It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."



Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children.


Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along.


During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

How To Forgive (WOW)
 One day a while back, a man, his heart heavy with grief, was walking in the
woods. As he thought about his life this day,He knew many things were not
right. He thought about those who had lied about him back when he had a job.
His thoughts turned to those who had stolen his things and cheated him. He
remembered family that had passed on. His mind turned to the illness he had
that no one could cure. His very soul was filled with anger,Resentment and
frustration.Standing there this day, searching for answers he could not
find, knowing all else had failed him, he knelt at the base of an old oak
tree to seek the one he knew would always be there. And with tears in his
eyes, he prayed:
"Lord- You have done wonderful things for me in this life. You have told me
to do many things for you, and I happily obeyed. Today, you have told me to
forgive. I am sad, Lord, because I cannot. I don't know how.It is not fair
Lord. I didn't deserve these wrongs that were done against me and I
shouldn't have to forgive. As perfect as your way is Lord, this one thing I
cannot do, for I don't know how to forgive. My anger is so deep Lord, I fear
I may not hear you, but I pray that you teach me to do this one thing I
cannot do - Teach me To Forgive."
As he knelt there in the quiet shade of that old oak tree, he felt something
fall onto his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Out of the corner of one eye, he
saw something red on his shirt.He could not turn to see what it was because
where the oak tree had been was a large square piece of wood in the ground.
He raised his head and saw two feet held to the wood with a large spike
through them. He raised his head more, and tears came to his eyes as he saw
Jesus hanging on a cross. He saw spikes in His hands, a gash in His side, a
torn and battered body, deep thorns sunk into His head. Finally he saw the
suffering and pain on His precious face. As their eyes met, the man's tears
turned to sobbing, and Jesus began to speak. "Have you ever told a lie?" He
asked?
The man answered - "yes, Lord."
"Have you ever been given too much change and kept it?"
The man answered - " yes. Lord." And the man sobbed more And more.
"Have you ever taken something from work that wasn't yours?" Jesus asked?
And the man answered - "yes,Lord."
"Have you ever sworn, using my Father's name in vain?"
The man, crying now, answered - "yes, Lord."
As Jesus asked many more times, "Have you ever"? The man's crying became
uncontrollable, for he could only answer - "yes, Lord."
Then Jesus turned His head from one side to the other, and the man felt
something fall on his other shoulder. He looked and saw that it was the
blood of Jesus. When he looked back up, his eyes met those of Jesus, and
there was a look of love the man had never seen or known before.
Jesus said, "I didn't deserve this either, but I forgive you."It may be hard
to see how you're going to get through something, but when you look back in
life, you realize how true this statement is.Read the following first line
slowly and let it sink in.
If God brings you to it - He will bring you through it.Lord I love You and I
need You, come into my heart, today. For without You I can do nothing.
When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you! 

My Cup of Coffee:   A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.   Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite telling them to help themselves to the coffee. When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups. Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us." God brews the coffee, not the cups.......... Enjoy your coffee! "The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God." "Faith is not just believing that God can, it's knowing that God will" 

The Birth Of Jesus Foretold:

    Luke 1:26-38  In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary.  And he came to her and said, "Hail, O favored one, the Lord is with you!"  But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and considered in her mind what sort of greeting this might be.  And the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.
    He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and his kingdom there will be no end."
    And Mary said to the angel, "How shall this be, since I have no husband?"  And the angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.  And behold, your kinswoman Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren.  For with God nothing will be impossible."  And Mary said, "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word."  And the angel departed from her.

The Birth Of Jesus:

    Luke 2:1-7  In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled.  This was the first enrollment, when Quirni-us was governor of Syria.  And all went to be enrolled, each to his own city.  And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.  And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered.  And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

The Angels And The Shepherds:

    Luke 2:8-20 And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.  And the angel said to them, "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!"
    When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us."  And they went with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.  And when they saw it they made known the saying which had been told them concerning this child; and all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them.  But Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart.  And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

The Coming Of The Wise Men:

    Matthew 2:1-12  Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying, "Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?  For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him."  When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.  They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it is written by the prophet: 'And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will govern my people Israel.'"
    Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star appeared; and sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him bring me word, that I too may come and worship him."  When they had heard the king they went their way; and lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was.  When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy; and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him.  Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.  And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.
 
 

    Here is a Christmas story that will bless you:

Christmas At the Gas Station (Author Unknown)

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George, as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly," George said. He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty, Stew ... made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away. "But Mister, please help .." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new tires," George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me." George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance." The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone

into the dashboard destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time

you're gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he
asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before. "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now." He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away." George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week ." George handed the gun to the cop. Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across

from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry, officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer. "Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?" "GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran." George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job." The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?" Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything." "Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems," Old George said to the young man.

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day." The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he had ever seen. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you." "And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours." The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier. "And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said, "Now git home to your family." The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here

in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good." "Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left." "I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?" "Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the

bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George.
* You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry.
* The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.
* The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists.
* The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself.
"That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man." George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man. "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned." George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room. "You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"If You Are Missing Baby Jesus, Call 7162"
Jean Gietzen      ( TRUE STORY )
When I was a child my father worked for an oil company in North Dakota. The
company moved him around to different parts of the state, and at some point
between one move and another, we lost our family Nativity set. Shortly before
Christmas in 1943, my mother decided to replace it and was happy to find another
at our local five and dime for only $3.99. When my brother Tom and I helped her
unpack the set, we discovered two figures of the Baby Jesus.
"Someone must have packed this wrong," my 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 Baby Jesus."
"Hey, that's great, Mom," my brother and I shouted. "We have twins!"
"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 7162," my mother instructed. "I'll give each of you a
penny for some candy. And don't forget your mufflers. It's freezing cold out
there."
The manager of the store copied down my mother's message and the next time we
were in the store we saw the cardboard sign that read, "If you're missing Baby
Jesus, call 7162."
All week long we waited for the call to come. Surely, we thought, someone was
missing the important figurine. Each time the phone rang, my mother would say,
"I'll bet that's about Jesus," but it never was. My father tried to explain that
the figurine could be missing from a set in Walla Walla in Washington and that
packing errors occur all the time. He suggested we just put the extra Jesus back
in the box and forget about it.
"Back in the box!" I wailed. "What a terrible thing to do to the Baby Jesus. And
at Christmastime, too." 
"Surely someone will call," my mother said. "We'll just keep them together in
the manger until someone calls."
When no call had come by five on Christmas Eve, my mother insisted that my
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?" my father thundered. "It's fifteen degrees below zero
out there!"
"Oh Daddy, we'll go with you," I said. "Tommy and I will bundle up good. And we
can look at the decorations on the way."
My father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet. "I can't believe I'm
doing this," he muttered. "Each time the phone rings everybody yells at me to
see if it's about Jesus, and now I'm going off on the coldest night of the year
to peek in a window to see if He's there or not there."
My father muttered all the way down the block, while my brother and I raced each
other up to the window where the tiny lights flickered on and off around the
frame. "They're all gone, Daddy!" I shouted. "Every set must be sold."
"Hooray, hooray!" my brother joined in, catching up with me. "The mystery will
be solved tonight!"
My father, who had remained several steps behind us, turned on his heel and
headed back home.
Inside the house once more, we saw the extra figurine had vanished from the set
and my mother appeared to have vanished, too. "Someone must have called and she
went out to deliver the figurine," my father reasoned, pulling off his boots.
"You kids get busy stringing popcorn strands for the tree and I'll wrap your
mother's present."
We had almost completed one strand when the phone rang. My father yelled for me
to answer it. "Tell'm we found a home for Jesus," he called down the steps. But
the caller was not an inquirer. It was my mother 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 Street. Why, that's about eight blocks away. Wrap that milk up
good in the blankets or it will turn into ice by the time we get there. Why in
the name of Heaven can't we all just get on with Christmas? It's probably twenty
degrees below out there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things
to do on a night like this."
Tommy and I sang Christmas songs all the way to Chestnut Street. My father
carrying his bundle of blankets and milk looked for all the world like St.
Nicholas himself with his arms full of goodies. Every now and then my brother
would call back to him, "Let's pretend we're looking for a place to stay, Dad,
just like Joseph and Mary."
"Let's pretend we are in Bethlehem where it is probably sixty-five degrees in
the shade right now," my father answered.
The house at 205 Chestnut Street turned out to be the darkest one in the block.
One tiny light burned in the living room, and the moment we set foot on the
porch step, my mother opened the door and shouted, "They're here, 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 the
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 children will have to spend 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 doin' washin' and ironin' 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 goin' through my mind: 7162. 7162.
"Said on the box that if a person was missin' Jesus, they should call you.
That's how I knew you were good Christian people, willin' to help folks. I
figured that maybe you could help me, too. So I stopped at the grocery store
tonight and I called your missus. I'm not missin' Jesus, mister, because I sure
love the Lord. But I'm missin' heat.
"Me and the kids ain't got no beddin', no warm clothes. I got a few Christmas
toys for them, but I got no money to fix that furnace."
"Okay, okay," my father said kindly. "You've come to the right place. Now let's
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."
My mother came into the living room carrying a plate of cookies and a tray with
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 the
Christmas season in the house. The children stared wide-eyed with wonder at the
plate of cookies my mother set before them. One of the littlest ones woke up and
crawled out from under the blanket. Seeing all the strangers in his house, he
began to cry. My mother swooped him up in her arms and began to sing to him.
This, this, is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and angels sing, she
crooned while the child wailed. Haste, haste to bring Him laud, the Babe, the
son of Mary, she sang, oblivious to the child's cries. She sang and danced the
baby around the room until he settled down again.
"You hear that, Chester?" the young mother said to another child. "That woman is
singin' ‘bout the Lord Jesus. He ain't ever gonna walk out on us. Why, He sent
these people to us just to fix our furnace. And blankets we got now, too. Oh,
we'll be warm tonight."
My father, finishing his work on the oil burner, wiped his hands on his muffler
and said, "I've got it going, but you need more oil. I'll make a few calls
tonight when I get home and we'll get you some oil. Yessir, you came to the
right place," he grinned.
When my father calculated that the furnace was going strong once more, our
family bundled up and made our way home. My father didn't say a thing about the
cold weather and had barely set foot inside the front door when he was on the
phone.
"Ed? Hey, how are ya, Ed?" I heard him say. "Yes, Merry Christmas to you too.
Say, Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here and I know you've got that
pickup truck. I wonder if we could round up some of the boys and find a
Christmas tree, you know, and a couple of things for …"
The rest of his conversation was lost in the blur of words as my brother and I
ran to our rooms and began pulling clothes out of our closets and toys off of
our shelves. My mother checked through our belongings for sizes and games she
said "might do" and added some of her sweaters and slacks to our stack. We were
up way past our bedtime that night wrapping our gifts. The men my father had
called found oil for the furnace, bedding, two chairs, three lamps, and had made
two trips to 205 Chestnut before the night was done. Our gifts were piled into
the truck on the second trip, and even though it must have been thirty degrees
below by then, my father let us ride along the back of the truck. 
No one ever did call about the missing figurine in the Nativity set, but as I
grow older I realize that it wasn't a packing mistake at all.

Missing baby Jesus returned to manger

(Naugatuck-WTNH, Dec. 12, 2006 Updated 11:12 PM) _ After disappearing for more
than a week a stolen baby Jesus statue has been returned. 
·	by News Channel 8's Annie Rourke
There was still no baby Jesus in the creche on the Naugatuck Green Tuesday
evening, but he will back soon. First there are a few preparations.
"We have had to put up plexiglass. We're putting it up to protect the baby Jesus
in the future, but it's something we really didn't want to do," Mayor Ron San
Angelo said.
It's happened twice in two years.  After the first time, they glued the baby
Jesus to a plate and bolted to the base, but still wasn't enough and last week
it was stolen right out of the manger. A minor bit of vandalism, but so
insensitive it truly offended folks here.
"People need to have the baby Jesus there," Morgan Falcone said. "It's not right
that someone would take it."
Maybe it was the public outcry or just personal pains of remorse, but at 3:30
Tuesday afternoon the baby Jesus was returned, wrapped in a bag and left with a
note that began "Dear Parks Dept. I believe this belongs to you.  My friend
stole it and left it at my house." 
The response was much relief and rejoicing.
"It was wrong that they stole it," Matt Barbosa said. "It is stealing and it is
a sacrilege. The symbol, but besides that I think it is good they returned it.
The police had been pursuing a case, but didn't have much to go on.
"It could've been anybody at this point, but we really didn't have a lot to go
with," Lt. Robert Harrison, Naugatuck Police Department, said.
The baby Jesus is worth $650 and it is a fourth degree larceny charge, but the
note appears to be in a child's handwriting and it does reference the young age
of the person that committed the crime.
What's more, the writer apologizes and asks for forgiveness. The mayor says that
is in keeping with the Christmas spirit.
"This is all about forgiveness. Isn't that what baby Jesus is all about,
forgiveness
  
The Jesus figure and the protective plexiglass should be in place Wednesday.

(Tissue Alert...)

 

Always believe in MIRACLES!!  Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin.  The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.

"Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling.  "Your friend?  Your sister?"

 

"Yes, Santa," he replied.  "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.

 

Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

 

"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!"
the child exclaimed.  "She misses you," he added softly.

 

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.

When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.

 

"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.

 

"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.  "The girl in the photograph...  my granddaughter well, you see ...  she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes.  "Is there any way, Santa ..  any possible way that you could come see Sarah?  That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."

 

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do.  Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon.  He knew what he had to do.  "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do."

 

When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying.  He asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.

 

"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

 

Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.  "C'mon....  I'll take you there," Rick said softly.

 

Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.  They found out which room Sarah was in.  A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall.

 

Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed.  The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day.  A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead.  And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face.  They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.  Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"

 

"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IVtubes in tact.  Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug.  A child the tender age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him with wonder and excitement.  Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy.  But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes.  His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears.  Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.

 

As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes.  Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.  As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother.  She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands.  Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.

 

"Oh, yes, Santa...  I do!" she exclaimed.

 

"Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you, "he said.
Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed.  He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease.  He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her.  And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night....  all is calm, all is bright." The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all.  When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.

 

"Now, Sarah, "he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well.  I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to.  He had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or toys -- but the gift of HOPE.

 

"Yes, Santa!  "Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.

 

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.  Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quicklyand rushed to Santa's side to thank him.

 

"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly.
"This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.

 

One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do.  Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa!  Remember me?!"

 

"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her.

 

After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.

 

"You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped.

 

Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest.  "Sarah!" he exclaimed.  He scarcely recognized her,for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before.  He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.

 

That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.  He had witnessed
--and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope.

 

This precious little child was healed.  Cancer-free.  Alive and well.  He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father.  'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!

 

If you believe in miracles you will pass this on...I did!

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