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Bobby’s Christmas Story

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his backyard in the snow. Bobby didn’t wear boots. He didn’t like them and anyway he didn’t own any. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them, and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold.

Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already, and try as he might he could not come up with an idea for his mother’s Christmas gift. He shook his head as he thought, “This is useless. Even if I do come up with an idea I don’t have any money to spend.”

Ever since his father had passed away three years ago the family of five had struggled. It wasn’t because his mother didn’t care or try there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things they more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older and one younger sister who ran the household in their mother’s absence. All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn’t fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already and he had nothing. It wasn’t easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. Bobby walked from shop to shop looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun’s rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body, and he walked into the first store he saw.

His excitement quickly turned to cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a dime. He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother’s Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and said to him, “You just wait here, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Bobby waited. He looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. The sound of the door closing as the last customer left jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid. Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There before Bobby’s eyes lay twelve long stem roses with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby’s heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box.

“That will be ten cents young man,” the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for this dime.

Sensing the boys reluctance, the shop owner added, “I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?”

This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby he heard the shop owner say, “Merry Christmas, son.”

As the shop owner returned inside, his wife walked out. “Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?”

Staring out the window and blinking the tears from his own eyes he replied, “A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn’t sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime. When I looked at him, I say myself many years ago. I too was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man whom I never knew stopped me on the street and told me he wanted to give me ten dollars. When I saw that boy tonight I knew who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses.”

The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air they somehow didn’t feel cold at all.

~ Unknown

Christmas Stories

I have so many favorite Christmas stories. I’ll try to post some of them. I do not have sources for all of the stories, but they’re great stories nonetheless. May you enjoy them and cry as much as I do every time you read them. :*)

The Gift
It’s just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree–no name, no identification, and no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas, oh, not the true meaning of Christmas but the commercial aspects of it–overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma, and gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else. Knowing he felt this way I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was twelve that year, was wrestling at the junior high level at the school he attended, and shortly before Christmas there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church–mostly black. Their youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only things holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without
headgear–a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.

Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class, and as each of their boys got up from the mat they swaggered around in their tatters with false bravado–a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly. “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.” Mike loved kids–all kids–and he knew them having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods stare and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.

On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree with the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas I followed the tradition–one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.

The story doesn’t end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up, but Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

May we all remember the Christmas spirit this year and always.

~ Unknown ~

Pictures

I keep forgetting to post my kids’ pics.  Tamra is awesome!


Ella

Aurora 

Lightning 

Wendy

Colds

Can we just stop getting sick??? This cold season has been THE worst yet for my family.  It seems like we barely get better and another cold hits.  So far it’s been head colds, but they aren’t always mild ones.  I’ve missed playgroups, ballet, and co-ops with my kids.  Its so frustrating!!!  I may even have to miss going Visiting Teaching tomorrow (the first time in my new ward) because I’m sick with the kids.  Ugh!  I sort of wish ballet would take December off, but I know the kids love it too much.  I NEED playgroup for my “self-preservation.”  The co-op class is over now, so I can relax about that.

Okay, I’m done ranting.  LOL  We’ll get better.  We always do.  I’m sure I just need to SLOW down.  That’s probably the reason for the illnesses.  Please pray for our health if you’re willing.

Truth…

I’ve been seeing and reading about what really happened on 9 / 11 / 2001, and I know that we do not have the truth from those who lead our country. It’s amazing the evidence that no one ever hears about. There are many sites that will give you more information. I’m just going to put links up instead of giving commentary about them. Watch some of the videos and listen with an open mind. I KNOW that our government is hiding something. Call it what you want, but there are many lies being told about the events on 9 / 11. Check it out for yourself.

question911.com/linksall.htm

st911.org/

911sharethetruth.com/

scholarsfor911truth.org/

911blogger.com/