Merry Merry Christmas Beloved,

Christmas Eve is tomorrow night and the holiness and
sanctity of this Holyday has me feeling very quiet and
introspective. My shopping is done and so is all the
wrapping. My youngest son needs to work Christmas
Eve and Christmas Day so he came over for his holiday
visit yesterday.

I will not be doing The I Am Mary Grace Show live as
it was decided since it is so close to Christmas, that
the station could run the reruns. I will give you the link
to the second of my shows that you can look at if you
wish. http://www.waleson5.com/gallery.html

I was going to send you some Christmas cartoons but
somehow they did not seem as funny as when I first read
them. I have several things about Christmas that I could
share with you so I settled on the ones that truly reflect the
Spirit of Christmas although all emotions are equally valued
and laughter is high on my list.

One of these is the most clever way I have known to answer
a child’s question of: “Is there really a Santa Claus”. It came
from a grandmother and her wisdom knew no bounds. Here it
is.
Cute Stoory….

Love this story! Merry Christmas Everyone!

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 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 didn’t have a good 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 (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and 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 door 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 coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share,
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care…

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

I am jumping with glee and glowing inside with happiness that most of our
soldiers are home from Iraq. I would like us to remember though that there
are many members of our families who are in countries around the world and
cannot come home for Christmas. This is in Thanksgiving and remembrance for their service
to us.

A Christmas Poem

http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=kfp07-9YsKY&feature=share

Love and Light

Mary Grace
www.TheWoundedChalice.com
IAmMaryGrace.com

PO Box 403
Wales, MA 01081, USA
413-245-3977