nettie
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Santa Claus: The True Story
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Dec 21 06:25 UTC 2000 |
Santa Claus: The True Story
I remember my first Christmas party 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. 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
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 Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy
hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never
went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling
the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobbie
Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the
ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie 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," I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobbie." The nice lady smiled at
me.
I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished
me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said
that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie
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 Bobbie'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 doorbell 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 Bobbie.
Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
beside my grandma, in Bobbie 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.
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albaugh
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response 14 of 14:
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Dec 22 18:35 UTC 2000 |
The following is something to ponder:
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof
overhead and a place to sleep ... you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in
a dish someplace ... you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
If you woke up this morning with more health than illness ... you are
more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness
of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation...
you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
If you can attend a church meeting without fear of harassment,
arrest, torture, or death ... you are more blessed than three billion
people in the world.
If your parents are still alive and still married ... you are very rare,
even in the United States.
If you hold up your head with a smile on your face and are truly thankful ...
you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not.
If you can hold someone's hand, hug them or even touch them on the
shoulder ... you are blessed because you can offer healing touch.
If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing
in that someone was thinking of you, and furthermore ... you are more
blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.
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