The Book of Christmas Virtues

The Book of Christmas Virtues Read Free Page B

Book: The Book of Christmas Virtues Read Free
Author: Jack Canfield
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Once I reached my house, I sat again on the porch steps and pondered this miracle. And it was a miracle. For I knew in my young heart and soul I was being serenaded by the angels.
    I was no longer cold and sad. Now I felt warm and happy, inside and out. As I gazed upward into eternity, surrounded by the praise of heavenly hosts, I knew I had received a joyous Christmas gift after all—a gift straight from God.
    The gift of love.
    The shining star.
    And an everlasting Christmas.
    Margaret Middleton

I Wonder
    I wonder if that precious babe
    were born somewhere today,
    Would he recline on Bubble-Pak ®
    instead of straw or hay?
    Would the message of the angel
    be broadcast on TV—
    Just one more televangelist
    ignored by you and me?
    Would the anthems of that heavenly choir
    hit Nashville from the start?
    With concerts, tapes and CDs,
    no doubt they’d climb the charts.
    Would we confuse that glowing star
    with satellites in space,
    Or think it just a UFO
    from a distant, cosmic place?
    The “Jesus news” would travel fast
    in this Information Age—
    By phone, by fax, by e-mail,
    perhaps his own Web page.
    Would we gladly leave our tasks behind
    and travel far and wide,
    Not hesitating in our quest
    to worship at his side?
    The answer lies within each soul.
    Each year we get to choose
    How we will celebrate his birth
    and greet the wondrous news.
    He comes! He comes! (though not a babe)
    so softly none can hear,
    And creeps into your life and mine
    this joyous time of year.
    And listen. Oh, just listen,
    his sounds are all around—
    The choir’s song, the call of friends,
    snow crunching on the ground.
    The laughter of the children,
    the ringing of each bell,
    The stories and the carols
    we’ve learned to love so well.
    So pause amid the craziness,
    embrace each mem’ry dear.
    Let tastes and smells and sights and sounds
    delight nose, eyes and ears.
    And welcome him this holiday
    with laughter and with joy,
    His gift of hope, his gift of life,
    That blessed, holy boy.
    Mary Kerr Danielson

Gone Logo
    Customize Christmas by proclaiming your personal “joy to the world.”
    Purchase a rubber stamp that reads “Joy,” along with colored inkpads, from a stationery or scrapbook supply store—or have one custom designed at a local printing firm.
    Stamp butcher paper, tissue paper or brown paper for gift wrap. Embellish plain white or colored gift bags. And don’t forget to create coordinating gift tags.
    Use the stamp to personalize your holiday cards, stationery, envelopes, thank-you notes and address labels. What about decorating paper napkins, tablecloths, place cards and nametags? And don’t forget to stamp each bill you pay!
    Make “joy” your logo this year, and spread it freely.

Simply So
    Too often, December arrives shrink-wrapped in good intentions. Big plans, high hopes—and wishful thinking.
    We envision a Norman Rockwell holiday that crackles with the toe-melting warmth of an old-fashioned, wood-burning fire. Or a Martha Stewart holiday that sparkles with fine crystal, heirloom china and polished silver reflecting the romantic glow of gilded candlelight. Or a Lawrence Welk holiday that rings with the eager excitement of mittened children, the familiar laughter of old friends and the lilting songs of muffler-wrapped carolers.
    We envision a holiday that simmers the flavors of mulled cider, clove-studded oranges, hand-dipped chocolates and homey yeast breads. That glitters with the charm of wreathed doors, bulb-frosted eaves and tinseled trees. A Christmas piled high with parcels, packages and presents—handpicked, handmade, hand wrapped.
    Signed.
    Sealed.
    Delivered.
    We expect to achieve it all—all at one time, all in one month, all in one breath—often at the expense of the people and things we hold even more dear. And we rarely allow ourselves time to smell the poinsettias.
    But there is an alternative. A simpler Christmas, a

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