The Gift of Love

by Thomas S. Monson

                When I was a very young bishop, in 1950, there was a tap at my door and a good German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself as Karl Guertler.

            He said, “Are you Bishop Monson?”

            I answered in the affirmative.

            He said, “My brother and his wife and their family are coming from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with me to see the apartment we have rented for them?” On the way to that apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for something like 30 years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother, Hans Guertler, had been faithful to the Church--an officer in the Hamburg branch.

            I looked at that apartment. It was cold; it was dreary; the paint was peeling from the walls; the cupboards were bare. What an uninviting home for the Christmas season of the year! I worried about it and I prayed about it, and then in our ward welfare committee meeting, we did something about it.

            The group leader of the high priests said, “I am an electrician. Let’s put good appliances in that apartment.”

            The group leader of the seventies said, “I am in the floor covering business. Let's install new floor coverings.”

            The elders quorum president said, “I am a painter. Let's paint that apartment.”

            The Relief Society representative spoke up, “Did you say those cupboards were bare?” (They were not bare very long, with the Relief Society in action.)

            Then the young people, represented through the Aaronic Priesthood general secretary said, “Let's put a Christmas tree in the home and let's go among our young people and gather gifts to place under the tree.”

            You should have seen that Christmas scene, when the Guertler family arrived from Germany in clothing which was tattered and with faces which were drawn by the rigors of war and deprivation! As they went into their apartment they saw what had been in actual fact a transformation--a beautiful home. We spontaneously began singing, “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm; all is bright.” We sang in English; they in German. At the conclusion of that hymn, Hans Guertler threw his arms around my neck, buried his face in my shoulder, and repeated over and over those words which I shall never forget: “Mein brudder, mein brudder, mein brudder.”

            As we walked down the stairs that night, all of us who had participated in making Christmas come alive in the lives of this German family, we reflected upon the words of the Master:

            Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25:40)

The Cobbler and His Guest

A Yuletide Legend, by Anne MuCollum Boyles

                There once lived in the city of Marseilles an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him Father Martin. One Christmas Eve as he sat alone in his little shop reading of the visit of the Wise Men to the infant Jesus, and of the gifts they brought, he said to himself, “If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if this Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give him!” He rose from his stool and took from a shelf overhead two tiny shoes of softest snow white leather with bright silver buckles. “I would give him these, my finest work.” Then he paused and reflected. “But I am a foolish old man,” he continued, “The Master has no need of my poor gifts. “

                Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest.  Hardly had he closed his eyes it seemed, when he heard a voice call his name... “Martin! Martin!” Intuitively he felt a presence.   Then the voice spoke again... “Martin, you have wished to see me. Tomorrow I shall pass by your window.   If you see me, and bid me enter, I shall be your guest at your table.”

                Father Martin did not sleep that night for joy. And before it was yet dawn he rose and swept and tidied up his little shop. He spread fresh sand upon the floor, and wreathed green boughs of fir along the rafters. On the spotless linen-covered table he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey, and a pitcher of milk.

                When all was in readiness, he took up his patient vigil at the window.

                Presently he saw an old street-sweeper pass by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. “Poor fellow, he must be half frozen,” thought Martin. Opening the door he called out to him, “Come in, my friend and warm yourself, and drink something hot.” And the man gratefully accepted the invitation.

                An hour passed, and Martin saw a young, miserably clothed woman, carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door. “Come in and warm while you rest,” he said to her. “You do not look well,” he remarked.

                “I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me in, and my baby boy,” she explained. “My husband is at sea, and I am ill, without a sou.”

                ”Poor child,” cried Father Martin. “You must eat something while you are getting warm. No? Then let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Ah! What a bright, pretty little fellow he is!... why, you have put no shoes on him!”

                “I have no shoes for him,” sighed the mother.

                “Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday.”

                And Father Martin took down from the shelf the soft little snow-white shoes he had admired the evening before. He slipped them on the child's feet... they fit perfectly. And shortly the poor young mother went on her way, two sous in her hand and tearful with gratitude.

                And Father Martin resumed his post at the window. Hour after hour went by, and although many people passed his window, and although many people shared the hospitality of the old cobbler, the expected guest did not appear.

                “It was only a dream, “ he sighed, with a heavy heart. “I did hope and believe, but He has not come.”  

                Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a strange light. And to the cobbler's astonished vision, there appeared before him, one by one, the poor street sweeper, the sick mother and her child, and all the people whom he had aided during the day. And each smiled at him and said: “Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?” Then they vanished from his view.

                A t last, out of the silence. Father Martin heard again the gentle voice repeating the old familiar words: “Whosoever shall receive one such in my name, receiveth me... for I was hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in... Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

The C-C-Choir Boy

by Fred Bauer

Everyone was surprised—everyone except Mrs. Brown, the choir director—when Herbie showed up in November to rehearse for the church's annual Christmas cantata.

Mrs. Brown wasn't surprised because she had persuaded Herbie to “at least try.” That was an accomplishment, for lately he had quit trying nearly everything—reciting in class, playing ball, or even asking his brothers or sisters to pass the potatoes.

It was easy to understand: He stuttered. Not just a little either, and sometimes when his tongue spun on a word like a car on ice, the kids laughed. Not a big ha-ha laugh, but you can tell when people are laughing at you even if you're only nine.

Mrs. Brown had figured Herbie could sing with the other tenors-Charley and Billy-and not have any trouble, which is exactly the way it worked. Billy was given the only boy's solo and the rest of the time the three of them sang in unison, until Charley contracted the measles. Even so, Billy had a strong voice and Herbie knew he could follow him.

At 7:15, the night of the cantata, a scrubbed and combed Herbie arrived at church, wearing a white shirt, a new blue and yellow bow tie and his brown suit. Mrs. Brown was waiting for him at the door.

“Billy is home in bed with the flu,” she said. “You'll have to sing the solo.” Herbie's face grew pale.

“I c-c-can't.” he answered.           

“We need you,” Mrs. Brown insisted.

It was unfair. He would 't do it. She could 't make him. All these thoughts tumbled through Herbie's mind until Mrs. Brown told him this:

“Herbie, I know you can do this-with God's help. Across from the choir loft is a stained glass window showing the manger scene. When you sing the solo, I want you to sing it only to the Baby Jesus. Forget that there is anyone else present. Don't even glance at the audience.” She looked at her watch. It was time for the program to begin.

“Will you do it?”

Herbie studied his shoes.   “I'll t-t-try,” he finally answered in a whisper.

A long 20 minutes later, it came time for Herbie's solo, intently, he studied the stained glass window. Mrs. Brown nodded, and he opened his mouth, but at that exact instant, someone in the congregation coughed.          

“H-H-Hallelujah,” he stammered. Mrs. Brown stopped playing and started over. Again Herbie fixed his eyes on the Christ Child. Again he sang.

“Hallelujah, the Lord is born,” his voice rang out, clear and confident. And the rest of the solo was just as perfect. After the program, Herbie slipped into his coat and darted out the back door--so fast that Mrs Brown had to run to catch him. From the top of the steps she called, “Herbie, you were wonderful. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Brown,” he shouted back. Then, turning he raced off into the night through ankle-deep snow without boots. But then he didn't really need them. His feet weren't touching the ground.

Good Deals (or Not)

Good morning! It is a lovely sunny day with a few clouds in the blue sky, a couple of inches of snow from yesterday and drips falling from the roof. Yesterday was a busy day around here.

I thought we had sisters for lunch so I made some Buffalo Chicken Soup. Then, because they weren’t arriving, I looked at my texts and discovered they’d sent me one indicating that they weren’t going to make it. Well, bummer! Their loss, I have to say.

Other than that, I made cranberry sauce, cranberry orange bread, cranberry salad, and regular bread. There were a lot of cranberries in the fridge that needed to be used or frozen. I froze lots and used six bags. There were a lot of oranges, too, and I used quite a few of them as well. For dinner we had artichokes with hollandaise sauce because, you can probably guess, we had some artichokes that needed to be used.

Daniel and his baby brother, Cedric.

The problem with buying fresh vegetables and fruits on discount is that they typically have no storage value and must be used as quickly as possible. While this is fine for some things, it is not always practical or the best practice because it often give you too much of something that has to be used and that isn’t always possible. Especially, for example, when the artichokes look like the ones Paul brought home three days ago. They needed to be used. They can’t be used the day he brings them home because everyone is in bed and I’m not about to start cooking at 9:00 at night. The next day I already had plans for meals and artichokes didn’t figure into them. That means that we ate them yesterday in spite of the fact that I wasn’t really in the mood for artichokes mainly because I didn’t want to cut the tips off and I really didn’t want to make hollandaise sauce because it takes so many eggs and so much butter. Still, I needed to or they would go to waste and that really wouldn’t do, either. Especially since he bought about six bags on discount (each bag usually has three or four in it) a few weeks ago and there just wasn’t time and/or I wasn’t in the mood. Some ended up as goat fodder but some went straight to compost because they had gotten buried in the refrigerator.

Other than hot chocolate, that is about what the day looked like. Other than school, of course.

Speaking of school, we were getting caught up with the work that didn’t get done last Friday because we took the day off and the boys were almost there. I am not sure how it happened, but Joseph ended up even more behind in math. Instead of just needing to do one extra lesson, he had one and a half this morning when we started. Currently he has to do one for today and one for yesterday.

Cedric and Seth. This is one of my favorite pictures of them.

This morning I thought I would make some hummus and thereby use some of the limes. That would have worked out better if I’d made sure the garbanzo beans were fully cooked before dumping them in the processor. I’ve got more that I’ll cook when I’m done here and then I’ll make more.

Also this morning, Seth was carrying on about how he is stupid. Why? Because everyone tells him he is. I’m going to have to pay attention to this because I haven’t noticed everyone telling him that he is. And he clearly demonstrated that he isn’t with his spelling test today: he got them all right. And the only reason he doesn’t get all of his math right all the time is because he is in too much of a hurry. So, stupid? Not by a long shot; not my boy.

Speaking of my boys, yesterday while I was washing some of the dishes gotten dirty, I was thinking that Cedric could really use Daniel right now. Cedric has so many questions and he doesn’t have his big brother here to ask. My thoughts were that Daniel should be here for him. Of course, he can’t be, not physically, and, as Paul is fond of saying, “That hurts.” However, Daniel is not here physically because he is not, for some reason, supposed to be. What does this mean? I think it means that although Daniel isn’t here right now, that he carefully weighed the pros and cons of leaving and staying and the pros for leaving outweighed the pros for staying. I think it means that Cedric will be okay. He might have some rough spots that a big brother would be able to help out but ultimately, he’ll be okay.

And that is all for now. Have a fantastic day!

The Bargaining

                The old man of the village embraced each of his three sons. "Bargain well," said he. "Remember, you must return before dark." He watched them slip from view over the brow of the hill, with the sun's first rays upon their backs.

            Villagers gathered, as the day wore on, to see which of the three sons bargained best. The noon hour had long since passed when the first son appeared on the hill. The villagers cheered. The son carried a large bundle of straw beneath each strong arm."Father," called he, "I have bargained well." He took the straw to the storage shed and cut its bindings. The straw swelled up and filled the shed to half.

            "Ahhh!   Ooohh!" exclaimed the villagers.

            "You have done well," said the father.

            Shortly the second son appeared on the hill. The villagers applauded. The son carried a large bundle of flax heavy upon his back. "Father," called he. "I have bargained well." He took the flax to the storage shed and cut its ties. The flax fluffed up to fill the shed to three-fourths.

            "Ahhh!   Ooohh!" exclaimed the villagers. "You have done very well," said the father.

            The last light of day shown behind the third son, as he appeared on the hill. The villagers were silent. His arms were empty. "Father," cried he, "I am sorry, for I have not bargained well. I came upon an old woman who had fallen. I lifted her, and learned she was blind. I helped her to her home and found she had nothing to eat. I am sorry, Father, for I took the bargaining coins and bought food for her shelf. The hours had passed, and I feared to return late. I hurried to leave. She called me back.

            “‘I want to give you something,’ said she. ‘I have nothing save this poor stub of candle and piece of flint.’”

            He placed the stub at the center of the storage shed floor. He struck the flint. A spark ignited the candle. The light of the candle filled the shed.

            "Ahhh!   Oooohh!   Wonderful!" exclaimed the villagers.

"Well done, my son. Indeed you have bargained well. Your light filled the entire shed.”

            The light of the world is Jesus Christ. We are in the season of His birth. This birth is Heavenly Father's gift to mankind. The life and death of Christ are His gift to us. What of our gift to Him? May we humbly offer genuine love and sincere concern to each of our family members and to individuals of our community.

Symbols of Christmas

                Just a week before Christmas, I had a visitor. This is how it happened. I had just finished the household chores and was preparing to go to bed, when I heard a noise in the front of the house. I opened the door of the front room, and to my surprise, Santa Claus himself stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. He placed his fingers over his mouth so I would not cry out.

                “What are you doing...” I started to ask, but the words choked up in my throat as I saw he had tears in his eyes. His usual jolly manner was gone—gone was the eager, boisterous soul we all know.

                He then answered me with a simple statement of “Teach the children.” I was puzzled. What did he mean? He anticipated my question and with one quick movement brought forth a miniature toy bag from behind the tree. As I stood there bewildered, Santa said again, “Teach the children. Teach them the old meaning of Christmas—the meanings that Christmas nowadays has forgotten.”

                I started to say, “How can I...” when Santa reached into the toy bag and pulled out a brilliant shiny star.

                “Teach the children that the star was the heavenly sign of promise long ages ago. God promised a savior for the world and the star was a sign of the fulfillment of that promise. The countless shining stars at night—one for each man—now show the burning hope of all mankind.” Santa gently laid the star upon the fireplace mantle and drew forth from the bag a glittering red Christmas tree ornament.

                “Teach the children red is the first color of Christmas. It was first used by the faithful people to remind them of the blood which was shed for all the people by the Savior. Christ gave his life and shed His blood that every man might have God's gift of Eternal Life. Red is deep, intense, vivid—it is the greatest color of all. It is the symbol of the gift of God.”        

                “Teach the children,” he said as he dislodged a small Christmas tree from the depths of the toy bag. He placed it before the mantle and gently hung the red ornament on it. The deep green of the fir tree was a perfect background for the ornament. Here was the second color of Christmas.

                “The pure green color of the stately fir tree remains green all year round,” he said. “This depicts the everlasting hope of mankind. Green is the youthful, hopeful, abundant color of nature. All the needles point heavenward-symbols of Man's returning thoughts toward heaven. The great green tree has been man's best friend. It has sheltered him, warmed him, made beauty for him.” Suddenly, I heard a soft tinkling sound.

                “Teach the children that as the lost sheep are found by the sound of the bell, it should ring for man to return to the fold---it means guidance and return. It further signifies that all are precious in the eyes of the Lord. As the soft sound of the bell faded into the night, Santa drew forth a candle. He placed it on the mantle and the soft glow from its tiny flame cast a glow about the darkened room. Odd shapes in shadows slowly danced and wove upon the walls.

                “Teach the children,” whispered Santa, “that the candle shows man's thanks for the star of long ago. Its small light is the mirror of starlight. At first, candles were placed on the trees—they were like many glowing stars shining against the dark green. The colored lights have now taken over in remembrance.”

                Santa turned the small Christmas tree lights on and picked up a gift from under the tree. He pointed to the large bow and said, “A bow is placed on a present to remind us of the brotherhood of man. We should remember that the bow is tied as men should be tied, all of us together, with the bonds of good will toward each other. Good will forever is the message of the bow.”

                Santa slung his bag over his shoulder and began to reach for the candy cane placed high on the tree. He unfastened it and reached out toward me with it.

                “Teach the children that the candy cane represents the shepherd's crook. The crook on the staff helps bring back the strayed sheep to the flock. The candy cane represents the helping hand we should show at Christmas time. The candy cane is the symbol that we are our brothers' keepers.”

                As Santa looked about the room, a feeling of satisfaction shone in his face. He read wonderment in my eyes, and I am sure he sensed admiration for this night.

                He reached into his bag and brought forth a large holly wreath. He placed it on the door and said, “Please teach the children that the wreath symbolizes the eternal nature of love; it never ceases, stops or ends. It is the one continuous round of affection. The wreath does double duty. It is made of many things and in many colors. It should remind us of all the things of Christmas. Please teach the children.”

Maidin mhaithe!

From last night:

Good evening. I thought I would get an early start on whatever I happen to say for tomorrow. Yeah, that’s what I’ll tell myself. Actually, I just went over Laura’s prologue for her next book and made some comments and I opened up the first chapter and I find that I’m not really in a reading mode. This is not a good thing because I’m sitting waiting for Cedric at scouts and it won’t be over until about 8:30 and all I have with me to do is my lap top and my knitting. It’s hard to knit out here when there isn’t really sufficient light and I don’t want to go inside. It would be warmer and there would be more than enough light, but it would also be much louder and I really am not in the mood for that, either. So, here I am, writing for tomorrow. I might move and work on something else, time will tell.

The yarn for Joseph's socks. They are actually almost read to turn the heels.

Last Friday the boys didn’t do any school work, as I mentioned last time. Yesterday I began getting lesson plans ready for this and next week (so I’ll be all done until after Christmas) and today I finally finished. The fun part is that each day they each need to do an extra lesson of something in order to be all caught up with what they missed Friday. That wouldn’t be too bad if today hadn’t also been a two hour delay day for Quabbin Regional School District. And even then it wouldn’t  have been awful if Amena hadn’t missed the bus. How the heck she did that is beyond my comprehension. She had an extra two hours for goodness sake. Sigh. Children. I was going to let the boys have an hour delay but they ended up having an hour and a half delay. Even with that, they each have two subjects they are caught up in (that they have every or every other day) and three to catch up in. Seth also has science to do some catch up work in.

Currently, we are in the middle of one heck of a storm. It is rainy and windy and not terribly cold but not as cold as it could be. Although if it got too much colder, we would be having snow instead of rain. Last time I checked, it was 34°. The wind does make it feel quite a bit colder but at least it isn’t. The storm is supposed to still be with us tomorrow according to what I looked at although the chance of rain is somewhat less. Thursday we have a chance of snow.

Yesterday I had an appointment with the chiropractor so I went to Michael’s. I wanted to get some clear glass ornaments so we can paint them tomorrow night and to see if they still had some of the stamps that I really liked. The good news was that everything Christmas was 50% off today as opposed to the 40% when I was there Friday with Julia. The bad news (which was really good because it meant I wouldn’t spend money I really didn’t need to) is that the stamps I really liked were gone. The other good news is that they had some scrapbooking paper pads for $5.00. They are regularly $19.99 so that was a good deal. I got two for school stuff.

The chiropractor is always amazed that my hips are still straight. I missed my last appointment which was in September so it had been a couple of months since I’d been there, and they were still in alignment. I thought my lower back was stiff but he said the joints felt good. I think maybe the stiffness isn’t the bones but the muscles. I’m working on them but when I am in the same position too long, they don’t like it.

There isn’t much else to report so I will end for now in spite of the fact that there is still an hour or so until Cedric is done. I’ll have to think of something else to do. I’m going to start the car for one thing because it’s rather coolish in here at the moment.

And from this morning:

Good morning! Amena got up and ready in time for the bus today and that is enough of a reason for !!! Also, I don’t have to work on lesson plans, etc., for Seth and Joseph. That is another reason for !!! Amena was doing really well at not missing the bus until she had those five days in a row. Maybe all her nights of staying up way too late finally caught up with her at that point. I’m not sure how she cannot put the two things together.

Given the time of day, not much is happening at the moment. Cedric is getting things ready for school. Seth just finished and Emercen-C. Joseph and Paul are still asleep in bed. Seth was going to go wake Joseph up but I stopped him. He was feeling kind of tired and not his usual self last night so I think sleep is good for him at the moment.

The dogs are still dogs. We were low on dog food so I was giving them cans of stuff from the basement (canned beef, mostly) in order to use up a lot of stuff that we have that I will never use and that we can’t give away because it’s all postdates and it gave them diarrhea. They’d just recovered from that and Cedric and Seth gave them a bunch of dog treats that Misty ate the most of and she got diarrhea again. So, it’s bad enough that they already poop in the house far too often; that was just ridiculous. Anyway, they’ve been better since I’ve been making Scooter go out every morning. She must be completely blind by now because she bumps into everything. She will get to the door and he used to always stand at the side that opens; now she doesn’t always even get there. I’ll open the door and if there is anything in the way, including cats taking the opportunity to get in or Misty who has been out and in and out and in, Scooter will turn around and go the other way. I’ve put a stop to that and physically put her in the right direction and kind of help her along outside.

The cats are still cats. They will come in at every opportunity which is a lot of fun. The other day Kitty caught a chipmunk and the boys opened the door to see what the fuss was about and then we had a chipmunk in the house. At least it was dead and didn’t have to be caught. Not long after that, Kitty made a fuss at the door again and the boys opened it to see what it was about and she brought in a rat. That was already dead as well and was quickly dispatched back outdoors.

And time goes quickly by and it is time to get something done. Have a wonderful day.