Christmas story A day late perhaps....

gillettehunter

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Start your Christmas season with a great Christmas story --


I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a
kid.

I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day
my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she
jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her
that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew
Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always
went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her
"world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous,
because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I
told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she
snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been
going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put
on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's
General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just
about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed
me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this
money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.
I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of
Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my
mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The
store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish
their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that
ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it
for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors,
the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby
Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat
right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker
didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to
recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling
the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby
Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered
the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby
Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked
real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the
counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am,"
I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really
needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put
the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell
out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas
paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, >From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove
me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was
now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I
crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then
Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present
down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of
the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door
to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent
shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That
night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were
just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive
and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.


May you always have LOVE to share,
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!
 

Wheels

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Great Christmas story. Thanks for sharing and thanks for Grandma's.
 

Nyati

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:clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping::clapping:
 

Wheels

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An African Christmas Story

For a Christmas holiday in the "60"s, my parents loaded up the Landrover and we drove throughout East Africa, visiting a number of the highlights. In the evenings we would pitch the tent wherever we might be.

On Christmas eve it took us longer than normal to fall asleep, wondering what Santa would bring us. That night it was a bright moon and a herd of elephants wondered up to the tent. Their feet got within 2-3 feet of where our heads lay. You could see their heads and trunks above the nylon tent as they smelled us. They were quiet. We were quiet so as to not alarm them.

In the morning us kids found presents at the foot of our sleeping bags. Dad said if we had been paying attention we would have seen Santa drop the presents off at the foot of our sleeping bags because the elephants had been pulling Santa's sleigh!

Santa is a pretty amazing guy. He can find you wherever you are.
 

Nyati

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:clapping::clapping::clapping:
 

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