Christmas Blessings

This morning I discovered that the new magnetic sticker I bought for my

car was missing. It read "Keep Christ in Christmas". I was very upset about

realizing it and quickly blamed someone for taking it. I thought that's

why I don't desire to fool with people anymore. Mind you it's been a very

stressful season at work....so ready for a Christmas break. I worked with

the teens...feels like they never listen. Try so hard to tell others about

Him and they don't listen. What's the use of talking till you are blue in the

face. This was His response... Now you know how I feel. How He must

have felt when the time came for His life to end on that cross. Why should

I have to worry and fool with them. Praise you Jesus....you did it anyway.

Then on the radio they shared my favorite Christmas "lesson" and I would

like to pass it along to you.

SIMPLE WHITE ENVELOPE
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree.

No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches

of our tree for the past 10 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 -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute

to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the 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 12 that year, was wrestling

at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there

was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be

the only thing 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 walloping

them. We took every weight class. And, as each of their boys got up from the

mat, he swaggered around in his 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 store 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,

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, and on and on. 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 s

tand 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 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 Christ, who is the reason for the

season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.

When I arrived at work I pulled the box of Christmas cards I had just

purchased out of the bag and carried them in. See, I remembered the

Christmas Blessing promise I had made. Wrote the name of a special

family on the envelope and placed some money inside with a Christmas

wish and no signature. I had a "secret helper" deliver the card with care.

I chose this family as my Christmas Blessing this year because they are

a family with 2 sons who have Autism. They pour every dime into those

kids. I hope that gift will help with Christmas and maybe give them hope

that God is still there. If I have to talk till I'm blue in the face...I'll never stop

sharing about Him. May you take the time to bless others with a

"Simple White Envelope".