~by Sharon Jaynes
If I decorate my house perfectly with lovely plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights, and shiny glass balls, but do not show love to my family - I’m just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals, and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family - I’m just another cook.
If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home, and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family - It profits me nothing.
If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties, and sing in the choir’s cantata but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.
Love stops the cooking to hug the child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.
Love is kind, though harried and tired.
Love doesn’t envy another home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.
Love doesn’t yell at the kids to get out of the way.
Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return, but rejoices in giving to those who can’t.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.
Love never fails. Video games will break; pearl necklaces will be lost; golf clubs will rust. But giving the gift of love will endure.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A Christmas Reminder
His bright blue eyes were very round and sparkling. Christmas was coming!
But with it's coming, everything seemed to change.
The orderly, peaceful daily living in the home ceased; afternoon naps became irregular as the household buzzed with cookie making, housecleaning, shopping trips, and parcel wrapping. Mother had little time for her blue-eyed boy and was often impatient with him. There was practicing on this song and drilling on that "piece". There were parties, entertainments, a Santa Claus who dispensed gifts to "good little children", and late hours to bed. When Christmas night arrived, there was an overstimulated, weary, confused little boy, whose blue-eyed sparkle had disappeared.
Is this Christmas?
Is this what we covet for our children at Christmas Time?
Too often the picture described above is true to our observances in our homes, schools, and churches. The little child's Christmas experience should be of entirely different character. It should be simple and unhurried. He should have an opportunity to share something that is really his own to give and to think of the happiness of others, as well as his own desires. Times of quiet when his father or mother read to him the Christmas stories, chances to listen to beautiful Christmas music and to sing about Christmas and the Christ Child, will all nurture the child's spirit and make Christmas a holy time for him.
~author unknown
But with it's coming, everything seemed to change.
The orderly, peaceful daily living in the home ceased; afternoon naps became irregular as the household buzzed with cookie making, housecleaning, shopping trips, and parcel wrapping. Mother had little time for her blue-eyed boy and was often impatient with him. There was practicing on this song and drilling on that "piece". There were parties, entertainments, a Santa Claus who dispensed gifts to "good little children", and late hours to bed. When Christmas night arrived, there was an overstimulated, weary, confused little boy, whose blue-eyed sparkle had disappeared.
Is this Christmas?
Is this what we covet for our children at Christmas Time?
Too often the picture described above is true to our observances in our homes, schools, and churches. The little child's Christmas experience should be of entirely different character. It should be simple and unhurried. He should have an opportunity to share something that is really his own to give and to think of the happiness of others, as well as his own desires. Times of quiet when his father or mother read to him the Christmas stories, chances to listen to beautiful Christmas music and to sing about Christmas and the Christ Child, will all nurture the child's spirit and make Christmas a holy time for him.
~author unknown
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