You Can't Touch It, or Taste It, or Feel it!!!!

   

Good morning and happy day after! 44 degrees here in Utah with rain forecast for the day, the skies are a dreary gray with an occasional cloud, even though the sun is not shining it still is amazingly beautiful. I pray that everyone had a wonderful time yesterday, that you had tasty food and special memory making time with family and friends!

     The countdown to Christmas is now upon us, I was amazed at how the posts I read last night, so many were out swimming in a sea of people doing the "black Friday" hustle! I pray that it was fruitful for you and that your perseverance afforded you with all that you wished to purchase!

 In prayer this morning I got on bended knees and asked God to bless each of you with a day of rest, a wonderful, beautiful day of rest! I asked him to bless all of those taking leave from their visit and guiding them safely home and that he fill your hearts with warmth and joy as, to me, the CHRISTmas season is now under way. I asked God to bless my sweet friends who are caregiving for those loved ones, being drawn to paradise, that they come to terms with the "what will be." Give them your strength and your grace father. Praying fervently I asked God to bless each of you who are suffering illness to feel strength today, each of you battling personal woes, addiction, depression, financial problems, lack of faith and lack of love, to be filled with heavenly love, to feel your warmth and to know the truth in your promises. I pray you will join me in this prayer, that you will close your eyes now and allow Father God to fill you with warmth and peace, that you will hear his still quiet voice and know that our savior lives, that you are a special child of God and that He is willing you to come into His arms and allow yourselves to re-new. Father I ask mercy and blessings for each of us in the beautiful name of CHRIST. Amen.

Christmas is for love

Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with wide-eyed innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the room. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, who always spent much time with him.

As Christmas drew near however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming, and when the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?"

I explained how he had been my best helper. "I was making you a surprise," he whispered confidentially. "It's for Christmas." With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room. He didn't stay after school any more after that.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. "I have your present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you like it." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.

"Its beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?" I asked opening the top to look inside. "

"Oh you can't see what's in it," He replied, "and you can't touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, and safe when you're all alone."

I gazed into the empty box. "What is it Mark," I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?" "It's love," he whispered softly, "and mother always said it's best when you give it away." And he turned and quietly left the room.

So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them that there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth and song, for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.