Pattern of Love

by Jack Smith

I didn't question Timmy, age nine, or his seven-year old brother Billy about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.

Every year at Christmas time, our Service Club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted $4 each, we began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally I asked, “Where would you suggest we look?”

“Could we go to a shoe store, Sir?” answered Timmy. “We'd like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work.”

In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. “We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot,” they said.

Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy's foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, then walked away. Soon he came with an open box. “Will these do?” he asked.

Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness. “How much do they cost?” said Billy.

Then Timmy saw the price on the box. “They're $16.95,” he said in dismay. “We only have $8.”

I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat. “That's the regular price,” he said, “but they're on sale; $3.98, today only.”

Then with shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves.

The day after Christmas the boy's father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. “I just thank Jesus for people who care,” he said.

“And I thank Jesus for your two sons,” I replied. “They taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime.”

Día duit

Good morning. I’m not feeling terribly exuberant this morning; not exactly sad, either. Reflective, perhaps. I was, as I often do, checking my email and seeing what is on Facebook while I ate my breakfast. Facebook is a good way to keep in touch with family and friends but it is also a place where people are free to say things that they wouldn’t necessarily in face-to-face situations. In some ways this can be good. In some ways it is quite the opposite.

Fred and George socks all done. I really like these. I think I'll  make more. Oh, wait, I am making more--for Joseph!

While I was looking this morning, I noticed how very judgmental we, as a society, have become. We judge others on any number of criteria, not all good. Everyone has an opinion on the Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown cases, the man strangled to death in New York, all of the other murders not reported in the news, the motivations behind these things, and a great many other happenings and the people involved. I am not going to express my views. Honestly, I have opinions, but since I am not privy to all the facts (I’m not sure anyone is who relies solely on information gleaned from the internet), I could be wrong. The thing I find sobering this morning is that almost every single person I know, every single person who has expressed an opinion, is ready to pass judgment on someone. And, quite frankly, not everyone can be right.

This was our snowy morning sunrise. It was very pretty.

The good news, I believe, is that there will be a final judgment. When this happens, everyone who was involved in all the often heinous happenings in the world today will be judged. Righteously. This is what my belief system tells me and I find it a comforting thought. No matter what the circumstances, the thoughts, intents, actions, and outcome of each and every occurrence will be considered. I doubt very much that my opinions on the Trayvon Martin case will decide this final outcome. I’m really kind of glad—I don’t want the responsibility.

The socks I had to fix because I didn't fasten the yarn at the toe well enough and it came undone.

Life has been fairly life-like around here. Friday we ended up not doing any school because Seth and Joseph had dentist appointments and after that we went to Joanna’s. Then I went to Julia’s and we went to Michael’s. Then we went home and by then it was time for Amena to be home so we just didn’t do anything. At all. And I didn’t get ready for this week either. And now it’s almost 8:30 and we need to get busy and I have an appointment with the chiropractor but I’m not going to worry about it. I’m going to get done what can be done and not stress.

While I’m not going to stress, I’m not going to be here much longer either. So, have a wonderful day. Enjoy it. And only worry about the things over which you have control. Give the rest to God; He has ultimate control and if you don’t think he can handle it, maybe you should think again.

Slán.

Mr. Jinks Hands Out the Holly

The Children's Friend/December 1958

David had just finished making a snowman. He was very large and round with the jolliest face ever. He wore a high hat and a red plaid muffler, although why any snowman should want a muffler, David didn't quite know. He only knew that it seemed to suit Mr. Jinks.

            Of course his name was Mr. Jinks because that was what David named every snowman he had ever made. He had made several-three this very winter, but not one of them had seemed as handsome and jolly looking as the present Mr. Jinks.

            "I'm glad that you're close to the sidewalk," David told him, "because you look as if you were wishing everyone a Merry Christmas."

            He had just added another coal button when the parcel-post truck drove up and the driver carried a huge box into the house. "I'll bet that's the holly Grandpa sent from Oregon," David called, following the man into the house.

            "Yes, I'm sure it is," replied his mother. When they had opened the box she said, "There's an extra lot this year. We can make wreaths for every one of the front windows."

            David helped, and when all the wreaths had been made there was a large basket of small pieces left over.

            "I wonder what we can do with these?" she said. "They are much too pretty to be thrown away."

            "I know!" cried David. "I'll let Mr. Jinks give them away. He can help make a merry Christmas for everyone who passes."

            "I think that's a lovely idea," Mother agreed. "And I'm sure that Mr. Jinks will think so too."

            First David made a sign which read "Merry Christmas. Help yourself." Then he took the basket of holly out and propped it up in front of the snowman. After that he stood in one of the front windows to watch the people pass.

            Mr. Bromley, the banker, was the first one to come by. He was walking very fast and looking straight ahead. David was very much afraid that Mr. Bromley was going to pass right by without so much as a glance.

            But no, he saw the sign and stopped long enough to put a sprig of holly in his buttonhole. David could see a smile on the banker's face and he couldn't remember ever having seen him smile before. But then, he reminded himself that he didn't see Mr. Bromley very often and that maybe it worried him to have so much money in the bank that belonged to other people.

            Next came Mrs. Ross, who worked in the bakery. She was walking slowly, as if she was very tired. “I guess that she has been making hundreds of cakes,” said David to himself. When she noticed Mr. Jinks’ smiling face she smiled back and took a spring of holly. Then she walked along as if she weren’t nearly so tired.

            Some boys with ice skates came next. They each took some holly and called to the snowman, “Thanks, old fellow. A Merry Christmas to you, too.”

            David watched people go by until it grew too dark for him to see any longer. Almost everyone had stopped to pick up a spring of holly. “Mr. Jinks sure made a Merry Christmas for a lot of people,” he said to his mother.

            “So he did,” she smiled, “With the help of you and Grandpa.”

Mom's Present Was Missing (for yesterday)

by Gloria Pope

Kathy worked her way through the holiday crowds. She considered the meager amount in her purse that was to cover Christmas gifts for her seven children and one or two close relatives. The year had not been good for her husband, who like others at the company where he worked had been required to take a pay cut to avoid losing his job.

With the shopping almost done, Kathy found a beautiful blouse, just the color, size, and style that she knew her mother would love. Best of all, it was on sale, and she could buy it and still stay within her budget. She purchased it and felt a glow of excitement, knowing the gift was exactly right.

Having finished her shopping, she gathered the twins and all the packages and headed for the car.  Then she discovered that one of the packages was missing~the gift for her mother! She retraced her steps carefully, but her unsuccessful inquiries brought a bitter realization of the truth: no gift for her mother, and no money left to replace it.

Standing amid the holiday crowds, the twins clinging to her package-laden arms, Kathy felt only the burden of the holidays and none of the joy. Her tears flowed freely.

A woman approached and touched Kathy's arm, saying, “Dear, I noticed you talking with one of the clerks about your lost parcel. Please take this, and buy another blouse for your mother. You see, this Christmas I have no mother to buy a gift for. Please, it would mean so much to me.” The woman pressed a twenty-dollar bill into Kathy's hand and slipped away before Kathy could speak.

Lost in thought Kathy walked slowly toward the rack of women's blouses. The crowds of men, women, and children still bumped and jostled her, but she was no loner bothered by them. She knew one of them might be another “angel in disguise.”

Keeping Baby Warm

by Lynda Laughlin

It was an inexpensive dime-store set, and he was only three years old. His back was toward me, but I could see that his chubby little hands were busily working on something at the old table.

“What are you doing?” I asked him impatiently, annoyed at him for touching the decorations after he had been told not to.

As I started toward the scene of his latest mischief, he turned toward me with wide blue eyes filling and a single tear sliding down his cherubic cheek. Then I saw it. A carefully folded tissue had been tenderly placed over the small ceramic infant.

“Baby Jesus was cold, Mommy,” he whispered.

Ten years have passed, and the tiny Nativity has been replaced by a much larger one. But this year, as every year, I found a carefully folded tissue covering the baby Jesus. I think I know who did it, and I hope he never stops.

Is There a Santa Claus?

by Francis P. Church, an editorial from the New York Sun, Sept. 21, 1897

Dear Editor,

I am eight years old.   Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.

Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun it is so.  Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa

Claus?"

Virginia O'Hanlon,

115 West 95th Street

New York City

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginia. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

See What I Mean?

Good morning! You know, nothing says good morning quite like a puddle of pee and a pile of poop in the library. Not just any poop either, but more of the diarrhea from last night. Speaking of which, nothing says I love you quite like a line of diarrhea from the front door around through the library to the bathroom door. Yeah. Not my thing.

Doane's Falls. This is another picture from our hike around Tully Lake.

Other than that, the past two days have been pretty okay. Tuesday the boys got all of their school work done before lunch other than reading and yesterday, being an early release day for Cedric and Amena, they were able to pull off a repeat performance. I love, love, love days like that.

Today, on the other hand, hasn’t been quite so good. Paul wanted to take the silver Jetta to Westminster to be worked on. The transmission was fixed but there is some other issue as well. Paul being Paul, he can’t just go and do that one thing he needs to, he has to do something else as well. In this case it was drive into Fitchburg to get gas for the green car because it is less expensive than anywhere else.  This put school off from our usual start time of 9:00 to almost 9:45. Now that we have had recess, Seth is stuck on his math (although he has finished grammar, cursive practice, and geography) and Joseph still is not done with his handwriting practice. He is doing a very neat job, just taking forever. Which means the whole rest of the day is likely to take forever.

Heading into the setting sun. Well, you know, it sets eventually. The boys were having a lot of fun fighting trolls and goblins. Seth had a magic sword and the water from the lake made it more potent.

Yesterday afternoon we cleaned the living room including moving most of the furniture and mopping and put the tree up. Somehow I missed a box and some of the things I know we have are not out yet. I’ll go up again once we are all done with school and see if I can’t find it. I am not even going to attempt putting lights on the house because I just don’t feel like it. I have decided that I just really do not like decorating the tree. I don’t mind putting up decorations but I don’t like doing the tree. And I honestly don’t remember if I used to or not.

rttt;/.ewr/,.; That’s what Kitty has to say about it as she walked across the keyboard.

Irish is a lot of fun. Spanish is a lot of fun. I need to talk to people, though, so that I can learn to have a conversation. Otherwise, I’ll be really good at reading it and listening to it but no good at speaking it.

Snowman by Seth.

In other news, the fire would not start yesterday. All I had was very wet wood and in spite of having lots of cardboard and kindling, the wood itself wouldn’t start so it took forever. It finally did burn but by the time we had to leave to drop Joseph and Cedric off for scouts and get to church, I had only put wood in for the second burn. Paul put wood in for the third when he stopped by to get what he needed and pick Amena up. When the boys and I got home, there were enough coals to burn the paper towels I wiped dog diarrhea poop up with so that was very handy because I wouldn’t want it hanging around in the garbage.

I don’t think I have anything else terribly interesting to tell you about but I should tomorrow.

Have a fantastic (rest of the) day!