Is anyone else having a hard time believing 2010 is over? Now I'm looking over my list of resolutions from January, and I'm not sure where most of the year went.
1. I didn't finish my Bible Experience audio Bible. The CD player broke. (2011)
2. Did pretty good on the blogging once a week until I hit, what, October? November? And then, well... (2011)
3. Exercising/dieting...not going to talk about it. (2011)
4. I typed up more recipes, but they didn't make it to a cookbook. (2011)
5. I DID manage to finish redecorating. If the decorating really ever can be called complete. (Check!)
6. I organized a few emails. Maybe 100. Still overwhelmed. (2011)
7. The house is fairly organized. Could use some weeding out. But no utter failure here. (Check!)
8. Certain number of words written a week? Yeah, still working on that one. Sigh. (2011)
9. Doing a lot better about not wasting time on computer games, though. (Check!)
10. The schedule for myself didn't work...especially when I started working full-time. New schedule needed. (2011)
11. I tried to keep track of the books I read this year, but I made it too complicated--wanting to write a book report for each one, having to put it in the same notebooks that I never had with me when I finished the book. Trying again, with a new system! (2011)
12. I totally nailed the non-fiction book list this year! Woo-hoo. More than six, and I'm just overflowing with knowledge as a result. (Maybe do again. 2011)
I missed some, but there we go. Looking over my lists of resolutions from 2010, well, I guess I don't need to make a new one for this year, since I can just carry most of them over.
But this is Jenness speaking. Yeah. I'll make a list.
12/31/10
12/25/10
Christmas Traditions
Some things I love about Christmas:
~ The way the tree looks when it's all decorated and the lights are twinkling.
~ Brainstorming ideas for the perfect gift for my loved ones.
~ Hanging around while my dad carves the turkey. He always cuts off the perfect piece and sneaks it to me while Mom pretends to scold.
~ Black Friday shopping!
~ Spiced apple cider
~ Mom's apple pie
~ The pile of books my mother-in-law buys me. :-)
~ Christmas music
~ The time to relax and celebrate the Reason for the season
What about you?
~ The way the tree looks when it's all decorated and the lights are twinkling.
~ Brainstorming ideas for the perfect gift for my loved ones.
~ Hanging around while my dad carves the turkey. He always cuts off the perfect piece and sneaks it to me while Mom pretends to scold.
~ Black Friday shopping!
~ Spiced apple cider
~ Mom's apple pie
~ The pile of books my mother-in-law buys me. :-)
~ Christmas music
~ The time to relax and celebrate the Reason for the season
What about you?
12/23/10
All You Want For Christmas
...is a copy of Bliss, right? And free is even better! :-) Two places you can comment to win: http://www.tandjbooks.com/, and here.
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
12/19/10
A Christmas Tale
For a few Christmases, I wrote little stories for my niece, and my sister-in-law illustrated them. I had intended to make it a tradition, but children's stories are not really my thing. (As you'll probably be able to tell in a minute. :-) ) But, just for fun, here is the one I wrote a few years ago. May it remind you of the true meaning of Christmas!
A Christmas Tale
“Can I go play?” Connor asked his mother.
She smiled at him as she stood over the stove. “Be back in time for supper.”
He raced outside and through the yard to the neighbor’s house. He knocked on the door, wondering what they would play today. Yesterday he’d been a pirate in search of treasure and Mr. Smith had been his first mate. Maybe today he would be a knight and use Mr. Smith’s cane as a sword.
The door opened, and Connor looked up, up, up to find Mr. Smith’s wrinkly face smiling down at him.
“Well, hello there, Connor. Have you come to visit me?”
“Yes! What story are we going to act out today?” Connor was so excited, he nearly jumped up and down.
“I have one all picked out, son. Come on in.”
Mr. Smith backed up slowly and let Connor inside. Connor accidentally slammed the door with a bang, but Mr. Smith did not mind. The old man led the way to the couch and eased himself onto the cushions.
“Do you know what month it is, son?”
“December,” Connor said.
“Right. Since we celebrate Christmas in a few weeks, I thought today we could act out the real Christmas story. Do you know what part you want to play?”
Connor thought until he came up with his answer. “I want to be the kid with the richest parents, because then I’d get the most presents.”
Mr. Smith laughed. “I’m sorry, Connor. There are no rich parents in the real Christmas story.”
Connor thought harder, trying to remember the real Christmas story. “I know! I want to be one of Santa’s elves, so I can play with all the toys in the factory before Santa delivers them.”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “There are no elves in the real Christmas story, either.”
Before Connor could try again, Mr. Smith said, “Why don’t I tell you the story first, and when I’m done you can pick out who you want to be?”
Connor nodded and sat on the floor in front of Mr. Smith. He would listen very closely. If he couldn’t have the most presents or play with the most toys, he would find some other way to be the star of the show. “Okay. But I know right now I want to be the most important person there ever was.”
“All right, then,” Mr. Smith said with a smile. “Listen close and see who that would be. A long time ago there was a young woman named Mary. One day she was minding her own business, washing clothes in the river—because that is how they did laundry back then.”
Connor wondered if this was going to be a boring afternoon after all. He would not play the part of a girl for anything, especially one doing laundry.
“All of a sudden, Mary looked up to find someone standing in front of her. It was an angel.”
Connor pictured a woman in a white dress with a halo around her head, and he wrinkled his nose. “Is this a sissy story?”
Mr. Smith held up a finger. “Just wait. No pirates today, but I still think you’ll like it. So here is this angel named Gabriel. Mary was so scared that she dropped the clothes into the river. But the angel told her not to be afraid. He was there with a message from God.”
Connor decided being an angel could be good. If Gabriel was on a mission from God, he must be really important. “What was the message?” he asked.
“Mary was going to have a baby.”
Connor rolled his eyes. It was a mushy story after all.
“But she wouldn’t have just any baby. This one would be really special, and they were supposed to call Him Jesus.”
Connor leaned forward, wondering why the baby would be so special. He didn’t ask, though, because Mr. Smith was still talking and Connor’s mother had taught him not to interrupt.
“Mary was supposed to marry a man named Joseph. He was a carpenter, and a good man. Once Joseph heard the news, he decided to treat the baby like his own son. They got married. Right about the time when Mary was going to have the baby, she and her husband had to go to another town far away.”
Connor thought about the tough carpenter man. If they were traveling far, maybe he took a plane and had to fly through storms to get the girl and baby to safety. That could be exciting.
“So Joseph put Mary on a donkey and walked and walked until they reached a little town called Bethlehem.”
Connor frowned. Joseph drove a donkey instead of a plane? Then he did not want to be the carpenter after all.
“That’s where the man in charge of the country had commanded that they stay, but they had a problem. There were a lot of other people who had traveled to Bethlehem just like them, and the town was really crowded. They were tired and worn out when Joseph led Mary to the very last inn in town. Joseph knocked on the door, and a man came to the door, looking almost as tired as him. ‘We don’t have any room,’ the innkeeper said before Joseph could speak a word. ‘But my wife is about to have a baby,’ Joseph said. He was pretty desperate by now. Not only could he not take Mary to a hospital, but it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to find a bed for her, either. If this innkeeper didn’t have pity on them, Mary and Joseph were going to have to sleep outside.”
Connor thought about that, wondering if he should play the innkeeper. Anyone who decided where strangers had to sleep must be pretty powerful. And if his inn was full, he must have been rich.
“What was the innkeeper’s name?” Connor asked.
“The storyteller never says.”
Then the innkeeper must not have been important after all. Connor sighed and listened harder.
“So the man thought about what Joseph had said. His rooms were still full, but he did have one more place that was out of the wind, at least. So he offered the shelter of the barn for Mary and Joseph for the night.”
Connor scrunched his eyebrows together. “The baby was born in a barn?”
“Wait, son, you’re getting ahead of me. Yes, Mary and Joseph stayed in the barn. They could use the straw for a mattress, and their clothes for pillows. It didn’t smell pretty, but it was warm and dry and private.”
“Except for the animals.”
“Right.” Mr. Smith smiled. “So, on that special night we call Christmas, in front of the animals, Mary had a baby. It was a boy, just like Gabriel told her it would be, and they named him Jesus.”
Connor thought it was nice that the baby was born on Christmas, but he didn’t want to be Jesus, because if He was born in a barn, He probably didn’t get many Christmas presents. Or birthday presents, either.
Mr. Smith shifted in his seat and continued. “While Mary and Joseph and Jesus were in the barn, there was something else going on. On a hill nearby, there were shepherds sitting around a campfire while their sheep slept nearby.”
Connor pictured the shepherds and wondered if they were making hot dogs and s’mores.
“So there they were, about to bed down and count sheep when they saw the craziest thing. A bunch of angels—not just one like Mary saw. There was a whole choir of them, lighting up the sky. They were singing and praising God and delivering a special message just for the shepherds.”
“What was it?” Connor asked as Mr. Smith took a sip of water. Maybe he should choose to be a shepherd. They must have been really important for God to have sent them their own bedtime concert.
“God wanted them to know that a baby was born in Bethlehem, in a barn, and they should go welcome Jesus to the world.”
“Did they go?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “They jumped up and ran off to find the barn right away. When they found Jesus, they visited Him for a while, and when they left, they told everyone they met about the angels and the baby.”
Connor sighed. The baby again. Babies were nice and all, but Connor did not find them very interesting.
Mr. Smith heard Connor sigh, and he smiled. “I’m almost done. Can you listen a little longer?”
Connor sat up straighter. “Yes, sir.” Mr. Smith had been so nice to him, and the old man was fun to play with most of the time. Connor could put up with one boring story if he had to. Tomorrow they could play swords.
“When Jesus was born, there was a huge star that appeared over the barn.”
“How huge?” Connor liked stars.
“So huge that far away in another country, some wise men noticed it.”
Connor bounced up and down. Were the wise men astronauts? He would like to be an astronaut.
“The wise men decided to follow the star to see where it led. They had read about a king that would be born and thought the star was a sign that the baby had been born.”
Connor quit bouncing when he heard that. The wise men couldn’t have been that smart after all, because the baby was not a king—he had been born in a barn.
“They packed some stuff and hopped on their camels to find this baby. It was a long, long journey, so long that by the time they arrived, Joseph had moved his little family to a house. The wise men made a surprise visit, and they gave Jesus three gifts.”
Connor grinned. Finally, some presents. “What were they?”
“Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
Connor blinked and tried to say the words, “Gold, frank…what?”
Mr. Smith smiled. “It’s a mouthful, isn’t it? Frankincense and myrrh were used to make perfume and other things. They may seem like strange gifts to you, but they were worth a lot of money. Jesus couldn’t play with them, but maybe His parents bought Him toys with the gold.”
Connor hoped so. He decided not to tell his parents what he and Mr. Smith talked about today. He did not want them to buy him frank-stuff for Christmas.
“Well, son,” Mr. Smith said. “That’s the end of the real Christmas story. Do you know who you want to be?”
Connor tapped his chin. Maybe he should be one of the wise men. They seemed rich and very important. He could sneak some candy in with the gold so Jesus picked him as His favorite. Besides, it would be fun to ride a camel.
He opened his mouth to tell Mr. Smith that, but he had a question he needed to be answered first. “Mr. Smith, why did the wise men travel such a long, long way to give presents to someone they had never met? They didn’t even have a naughty and nice list like Santa. So why did they want to see this baby who was born in a barn? And what does this have to do with Christmas?”
Mr. Smith smiled gently. “Christmas is Jesus’s birthday party.”
Connor blinked. “It’s not about Santa and the elves?”
“No, son. It’s about celebrating the birth of the amazing baby who grew up to save the world.”
Connor frowned. “But I don’t understand. How did He save the world?”
Mr. Smith patted the seat beside him. “Come sit closer and I’ll explain.”
Connor climbed onto the couch, leaning close so he wouldn’t miss a word.
“Have you ever done anything bad, Connor? Have you ever lied to your parents or done something they told you not to do?”
Connor scooted farther away, but Mr. Smith did not look mad. “Yes,” he finally answered.
“What happened when they found out?”
“I got into big trouble,” Connor answered, his head bowed in shame.
“Well, the world was full of people who were doing bad things. God loved everyone in the world, even more than your parents love you, but He was going to have to punish the people because of the evil in their hearts. Jesus was God’s Son, and He didn’t have any evil in His heart. But He loved the people, too, so when He grew up, He agreed to take their punishment—everyone’s. Yours, too. So all they’d have to do after that is tell God they were sorry. Jesus had already been punished so they wouldn’t have to be.”
“Wow,” Connor said. “But…if Jesus was punished for all the bad things people did, it must have been pretty horrible.” He frowned, trying to think of what all of his punishments in his life so far would add up to.
“It was.” Mr. Smith looked at him with sad eyes. “Jesus was hurt really badly, and then… He was killed.”
Connor gasped. “Jesus died? Because of the things that I did wrong?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “He took your punishment and mine. That’s why God sent Him down to earth, and why His birthday is so special.”
Connor sniffed back tears. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to be the baby, but that did not mean he wanted Jesus to die!
“Cheer up, son. It’s sad, yes, but it gets better.”
“How can it get better?” Connor rubbed his face.
“You know how I said Jesus was God’s Son? Well, after Jesus died, God brought Him back to life. And then Jesus went back to heaven, and He’s looking down on us right now.”
“Really?” Connor looked up at the ceiling, trying to see through the roof all the way to heaven.
“Really,” Mr. Smith said, then he struggled to his feet. “Now that you know the real story of Christmas, do you know what part you want to play?”
Connor tapped his finger against his chin, thinking hard. “I want to be one of the sheep.”
Mr. Smith nearly fell back in the seat, he was so surprised. “Connor, I thought you said you wanted to be the most important person in the story.”
“Yes, sir, I did say that. But I changed my mind.”
“The sheep didn’t have a part at all.”
“If the baby got cold, I could lay next to Him and keep Him warm.”
Mr. Smith leaned on his cane. “I see,” he said softly.
“Wait,” Connor said, still thinking hard. “Maybe I should be the manger, to make sure Jesus doesn’t fall. Or maybe the roof, to keep off the rain. Or maybe the star, to shine nice and bright so the baby isn’t afraid of the dark.”
Connor put his head in his hands, trying to figure out what the baby would like most. Should he be a bird, to sing Jesus to sleep? Or a cat to keep the mice away? Or…
“You know what Jesus would like best, son?” Mr. Smith asked.
“What?” Connor raised his head to look at the old man.
Mr. Smith tapped Connor’s leg with his cane. “He’d want you to be yourself.”
“But what could I do for Jesus?”
“What He would like most in the world—you can give Him your heart.”
The End.
A Christmas Tale
“Can I go play?” Connor asked his mother.
She smiled at him as she stood over the stove. “Be back in time for supper.”
He raced outside and through the yard to the neighbor’s house. He knocked on the door, wondering what they would play today. Yesterday he’d been a pirate in search of treasure and Mr. Smith had been his first mate. Maybe today he would be a knight and use Mr. Smith’s cane as a sword.
The door opened, and Connor looked up, up, up to find Mr. Smith’s wrinkly face smiling down at him.
“Well, hello there, Connor. Have you come to visit me?”
“Yes! What story are we going to act out today?” Connor was so excited, he nearly jumped up and down.
“I have one all picked out, son. Come on in.”
Mr. Smith backed up slowly and let Connor inside. Connor accidentally slammed the door with a bang, but Mr. Smith did not mind. The old man led the way to the couch and eased himself onto the cushions.
“Do you know what month it is, son?”
“December,” Connor said.
“Right. Since we celebrate Christmas in a few weeks, I thought today we could act out the real Christmas story. Do you know what part you want to play?”
Connor thought until he came up with his answer. “I want to be the kid with the richest parents, because then I’d get the most presents.”
Mr. Smith laughed. “I’m sorry, Connor. There are no rich parents in the real Christmas story.”
Connor thought harder, trying to remember the real Christmas story. “I know! I want to be one of Santa’s elves, so I can play with all the toys in the factory before Santa delivers them.”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “There are no elves in the real Christmas story, either.”
Before Connor could try again, Mr. Smith said, “Why don’t I tell you the story first, and when I’m done you can pick out who you want to be?”
Connor nodded and sat on the floor in front of Mr. Smith. He would listen very closely. If he couldn’t have the most presents or play with the most toys, he would find some other way to be the star of the show. “Okay. But I know right now I want to be the most important person there ever was.”
“All right, then,” Mr. Smith said with a smile. “Listen close and see who that would be. A long time ago there was a young woman named Mary. One day she was minding her own business, washing clothes in the river—because that is how they did laundry back then.”
Connor wondered if this was going to be a boring afternoon after all. He would not play the part of a girl for anything, especially one doing laundry.
“All of a sudden, Mary looked up to find someone standing in front of her. It was an angel.”
Connor pictured a woman in a white dress with a halo around her head, and he wrinkled his nose. “Is this a sissy story?”
Mr. Smith held up a finger. “Just wait. No pirates today, but I still think you’ll like it. So here is this angel named Gabriel. Mary was so scared that she dropped the clothes into the river. But the angel told her not to be afraid. He was there with a message from God.”
Connor decided being an angel could be good. If Gabriel was on a mission from God, he must be really important. “What was the message?” he asked.
“Mary was going to have a baby.”
Connor rolled his eyes. It was a mushy story after all.
“But she wouldn’t have just any baby. This one would be really special, and they were supposed to call Him Jesus.”
Connor leaned forward, wondering why the baby would be so special. He didn’t ask, though, because Mr. Smith was still talking and Connor’s mother had taught him not to interrupt.
“Mary was supposed to marry a man named Joseph. He was a carpenter, and a good man. Once Joseph heard the news, he decided to treat the baby like his own son. They got married. Right about the time when Mary was going to have the baby, she and her husband had to go to another town far away.”
Connor thought about the tough carpenter man. If they were traveling far, maybe he took a plane and had to fly through storms to get the girl and baby to safety. That could be exciting.
“So Joseph put Mary on a donkey and walked and walked until they reached a little town called Bethlehem.”
Connor frowned. Joseph drove a donkey instead of a plane? Then he did not want to be the carpenter after all.
“That’s where the man in charge of the country had commanded that they stay, but they had a problem. There were a lot of other people who had traveled to Bethlehem just like them, and the town was really crowded. They were tired and worn out when Joseph led Mary to the very last inn in town. Joseph knocked on the door, and a man came to the door, looking almost as tired as him. ‘We don’t have any room,’ the innkeeper said before Joseph could speak a word. ‘But my wife is about to have a baby,’ Joseph said. He was pretty desperate by now. Not only could he not take Mary to a hospital, but it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to find a bed for her, either. If this innkeeper didn’t have pity on them, Mary and Joseph were going to have to sleep outside.”
Connor thought about that, wondering if he should play the innkeeper. Anyone who decided where strangers had to sleep must be pretty powerful. And if his inn was full, he must have been rich.
“What was the innkeeper’s name?” Connor asked.
“The storyteller never says.”
Then the innkeeper must not have been important after all. Connor sighed and listened harder.
“So the man thought about what Joseph had said. His rooms were still full, but he did have one more place that was out of the wind, at least. So he offered the shelter of the barn for Mary and Joseph for the night.”
Connor scrunched his eyebrows together. “The baby was born in a barn?”
“Wait, son, you’re getting ahead of me. Yes, Mary and Joseph stayed in the barn. They could use the straw for a mattress, and their clothes for pillows. It didn’t smell pretty, but it was warm and dry and private.”
“Except for the animals.”
“Right.” Mr. Smith smiled. “So, on that special night we call Christmas, in front of the animals, Mary had a baby. It was a boy, just like Gabriel told her it would be, and they named him Jesus.”
Connor thought it was nice that the baby was born on Christmas, but he didn’t want to be Jesus, because if He was born in a barn, He probably didn’t get many Christmas presents. Or birthday presents, either.
Mr. Smith shifted in his seat and continued. “While Mary and Joseph and Jesus were in the barn, there was something else going on. On a hill nearby, there were shepherds sitting around a campfire while their sheep slept nearby.”
Connor pictured the shepherds and wondered if they were making hot dogs and s’mores.
“So there they were, about to bed down and count sheep when they saw the craziest thing. A bunch of angels—not just one like Mary saw. There was a whole choir of them, lighting up the sky. They were singing and praising God and delivering a special message just for the shepherds.”
“What was it?” Connor asked as Mr. Smith took a sip of water. Maybe he should choose to be a shepherd. They must have been really important for God to have sent them their own bedtime concert.
“God wanted them to know that a baby was born in Bethlehem, in a barn, and they should go welcome Jesus to the world.”
“Did they go?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “They jumped up and ran off to find the barn right away. When they found Jesus, they visited Him for a while, and when they left, they told everyone they met about the angels and the baby.”
Connor sighed. The baby again. Babies were nice and all, but Connor did not find them very interesting.
Mr. Smith heard Connor sigh, and he smiled. “I’m almost done. Can you listen a little longer?”
Connor sat up straighter. “Yes, sir.” Mr. Smith had been so nice to him, and the old man was fun to play with most of the time. Connor could put up with one boring story if he had to. Tomorrow they could play swords.
“When Jesus was born, there was a huge star that appeared over the barn.”
“How huge?” Connor liked stars.
“So huge that far away in another country, some wise men noticed it.”
Connor bounced up and down. Were the wise men astronauts? He would like to be an astronaut.
“The wise men decided to follow the star to see where it led. They had read about a king that would be born and thought the star was a sign that the baby had been born.”
Connor quit bouncing when he heard that. The wise men couldn’t have been that smart after all, because the baby was not a king—he had been born in a barn.
“They packed some stuff and hopped on their camels to find this baby. It was a long, long journey, so long that by the time they arrived, Joseph had moved his little family to a house. The wise men made a surprise visit, and they gave Jesus three gifts.”
Connor grinned. Finally, some presents. “What were they?”
“Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
Connor blinked and tried to say the words, “Gold, frank…what?”
Mr. Smith smiled. “It’s a mouthful, isn’t it? Frankincense and myrrh were used to make perfume and other things. They may seem like strange gifts to you, but they were worth a lot of money. Jesus couldn’t play with them, but maybe His parents bought Him toys with the gold.”
Connor hoped so. He decided not to tell his parents what he and Mr. Smith talked about today. He did not want them to buy him frank-stuff for Christmas.
“Well, son,” Mr. Smith said. “That’s the end of the real Christmas story. Do you know who you want to be?”
Connor tapped his chin. Maybe he should be one of the wise men. They seemed rich and very important. He could sneak some candy in with the gold so Jesus picked him as His favorite. Besides, it would be fun to ride a camel.
He opened his mouth to tell Mr. Smith that, but he had a question he needed to be answered first. “Mr. Smith, why did the wise men travel such a long, long way to give presents to someone they had never met? They didn’t even have a naughty and nice list like Santa. So why did they want to see this baby who was born in a barn? And what does this have to do with Christmas?”
Mr. Smith smiled gently. “Christmas is Jesus’s birthday party.”
Connor blinked. “It’s not about Santa and the elves?”
“No, son. It’s about celebrating the birth of the amazing baby who grew up to save the world.”
Connor frowned. “But I don’t understand. How did He save the world?”
Mr. Smith patted the seat beside him. “Come sit closer and I’ll explain.”
Connor climbed onto the couch, leaning close so he wouldn’t miss a word.
“Have you ever done anything bad, Connor? Have you ever lied to your parents or done something they told you not to do?”
Connor scooted farther away, but Mr. Smith did not look mad. “Yes,” he finally answered.
“What happened when they found out?”
“I got into big trouble,” Connor answered, his head bowed in shame.
“Well, the world was full of people who were doing bad things. God loved everyone in the world, even more than your parents love you, but He was going to have to punish the people because of the evil in their hearts. Jesus was God’s Son, and He didn’t have any evil in His heart. But He loved the people, too, so when He grew up, He agreed to take their punishment—everyone’s. Yours, too. So all they’d have to do after that is tell God they were sorry. Jesus had already been punished so they wouldn’t have to be.”
“Wow,” Connor said. “But…if Jesus was punished for all the bad things people did, it must have been pretty horrible.” He frowned, trying to think of what all of his punishments in his life so far would add up to.
“It was.” Mr. Smith looked at him with sad eyes. “Jesus was hurt really badly, and then… He was killed.”
Connor gasped. “Jesus died? Because of the things that I did wrong?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “He took your punishment and mine. That’s why God sent Him down to earth, and why His birthday is so special.”
Connor sniffed back tears. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to be the baby, but that did not mean he wanted Jesus to die!
“Cheer up, son. It’s sad, yes, but it gets better.”
“How can it get better?” Connor rubbed his face.
“You know how I said Jesus was God’s Son? Well, after Jesus died, God brought Him back to life. And then Jesus went back to heaven, and He’s looking down on us right now.”
“Really?” Connor looked up at the ceiling, trying to see through the roof all the way to heaven.
“Really,” Mr. Smith said, then he struggled to his feet. “Now that you know the real story of Christmas, do you know what part you want to play?”
Connor tapped his finger against his chin, thinking hard. “I want to be one of the sheep.”
Mr. Smith nearly fell back in the seat, he was so surprised. “Connor, I thought you said you wanted to be the most important person in the story.”
“Yes, sir, I did say that. But I changed my mind.”
“The sheep didn’t have a part at all.”
“If the baby got cold, I could lay next to Him and keep Him warm.”
Mr. Smith leaned on his cane. “I see,” he said softly.
“Wait,” Connor said, still thinking hard. “Maybe I should be the manger, to make sure Jesus doesn’t fall. Or maybe the roof, to keep off the rain. Or maybe the star, to shine nice and bright so the baby isn’t afraid of the dark.”
Connor put his head in his hands, trying to figure out what the baby would like most. Should he be a bird, to sing Jesus to sleep? Or a cat to keep the mice away? Or…
“You know what Jesus would like best, son?” Mr. Smith asked.
“What?” Connor raised his head to look at the old man.
Mr. Smith tapped Connor’s leg with his cane. “He’d want you to be yourself.”
“But what could I do for Jesus?”
“What He would like most in the world—you can give Him your heart.”
The End.
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