New Year's: Look Not behind Thee

Christmas day in the Morning, by Pearl S. Buck

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.  Luke 2:11

Christmas Day in the Morning

He woke suddenly and completely!  It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking.  Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still!  Fifty years ago, and his Father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning.  He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep but this morning it was Christmas.  He did not try to sleep.  Why did he feel so awake tonight?  He lipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays.  He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm.  He loved his father.  He had not know it until one day a few days before Christmas, when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings.  He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep.  If you could just see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up!  I wish I could manage alone."  "Well, you can't, Adam."  His mother's voice was brisk.  "Besides, he isn't a child anymore.  It's time he took his turn,"  "Yes," his father said slowly, "but I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words, something in him woke:  his father loved him!  He had never thought of it before, taking for granted the tie of their blood.  Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things.  There was always so much to do on the farm.  Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no loitering in the mornings and having to be called again.  He got up after that, stumbling blind with sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes tight shut, but he got up.

And then on the night before Christmas, that year when he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day.  They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and the mince pies his mother made.  His sister sewed presents and his mother and father always bought something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe, but something more, such as a book, and he saved and bought them each something, too.  He wished, that Christmas he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father.  As usual, he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie.  It had seemed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas.  He looked out of his attic window; the stars were bright.

"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "what is a stable?"  "It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."  Then Jesus had been born in a barn and to a barn the shepherds had come . . .  The thought struck him like a silver digger.  Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn?  He could get up early, earlier than four o'clock, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done.  He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went in to start milking he'd see it all done.  And he would know who had done it.  He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars.  It was what he would do, and he mustn't sleep too soundly.

He must have awakened twenty times, scratching a match each time to look at his old watch--midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock.  At a quarter to three, he got up and put on his clothes.  He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out.  The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised.  It was early for them, too.  He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy.  He kept thinking about his father's surprise.  His father would come in and get him, saying that he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed.  He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go to get the two big empty milk cans.  But they wouldn't be waiting or empty; they'd be standing in the milkhouse, filled.

"What the--," he could hear his father exclaiming.  He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant.  The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before.  Milking for once was not a chore.  It was something else, a gift to his father who loved him.  He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milkhouse door carefully and jumped into bed, for he heard his father up.  He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing.  The door opened.

"Rob!"  his father called.  "We have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas."  

"Aw-right," he said sleepily.


The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself.  In just a few minutes his father would know.  His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.  The minutes were endless--ten, fifteen, he did not know how many--and he heard his father's footsteps again.  The door opened and he law still.  "Rob!"  "Yes, Dad."  His father was laughing a queer sobbing sort of laugh.  "Thought you'd fool me, did you?"  He father was standing beside his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover.  "It's for Christmas, Dad!"  He found his father and clutched him in a great hug.  He felt his father's arms go around him.  It wad dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Son, I thank you.  Nobody ever did a nicer thing . . ."  "Oh, Dad, I want you to know--I do want to be good."  The words broke from him of their own will.  He did not know what to do.  His heart was bursting with love.  He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree.  Oh, what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself.

The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son, every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."  They had both remembered it, and now that his father was dead, he remembered it alone:  that blessed Christmas dawn when alone with the cows in the barn, he had made his first gift of true love.

This Christmas he wanted to write a card to his wife and tell her how much he loved her, it had been a long time since he had really told her, although he loved her in a very special way, much more than he ever had when they were young.  He had been fortunate that she loved him.  Ah, that was the true joy of life, the ability to love!  Love was still alive in him, it still was.

It occurred to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him.  That was it:  Love alone could awaken love.  And he could give the gift again and again.  This morning, this blessed Christmas morning, he would give it to his beloved wife.  He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever.  He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife:  My dearest love . . .  Such a happy, happy Christmas!

A Special Christmas Gift From a Grandson

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given:  and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.  Isaiah 9:6
Sing a song for Christmas day:  Joy to the World

I attended two Sacrament meetings today.  It was extra special to be able to go to church on Christmas when all the Christian world is celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.  The first was our own ward meeting at 9 a.m.  It was a lovely program with beautiful readings and music.  The second was in a daughter's ward.  It was also a wonderful program with many talented people singing and reading, but I wasn't there because I couldn't get enough of the Christmas Spirit with just one meeting.  I was there to experience and celebrate an important milestone in the life of a grandson.


This grandson isn't just an ordinary 17-year-old.  He has extra-special qualities given to him, I think, to make up for disabilities that he has had since birth.  I was there to witness him blessing the Sacrament for the first time.  He has been practicing for a year to get his speech clear enough so the bishop could tell if he said the prayer correctly.  It has to be perfect, or the person blessing the Sacrament has to do the prayer over until it is exactly right.  He felt ready to do it, but he was terrified he would make a mistake.


His dad said he thought this was the most special Christmas gift he could get from his son.  It seemed a Christmas gift not just to his family, but to the whole ward.  I could see and feel the support the ward "family" has for him, and we were all pulling for him and praying he could do it.  We know how important this was to him.  He has always taken his priesthood duties very seriously and has served as a faithful home teacher, who often calls to remind his senior partner they need to go.  The stories of the things he has done for his families are touching.  He has a very special gift to brighten the lives of others and to recognize needs that someone else might not see.


We sat in the bench, looking up at our handsome young man as he was preparing the bread first.  It was a task he found difficult when he became old enough for that to became part of his priesthood duties.  At first he experienced embarrassment because he was slower than the other priests, and they stood waiting for him as he practiced every week to get his muscle coordination trained so his hands could move fast enough to keep up.  He stressed every week over this, but today I noticed he has mastered that task and even finished before a couple of the other priests, even though his white shirt sleeves were way too long (he insisted on wearing his father's shirt that is too big for him). When it was time to bless the water, we all held our breath as he kneeled and said the prayer.


We were overjoyed in our hearts when he was able say the Sacrament prayer, though at first we weren't sure if he'd been clear enough in a couple spots for the bishop to know.  He got the nod from a smiling bishop that he'd done it correctly.  Some of us had tears flowing down our cheeks.  It was one of those special moments in life that is never forgotten.  It made Christmas Day for me--such a touching, priceless, precious moment.  He showed the courage to not give up or quit out of fear, nor did he ever use excuses, and I'm sure he was happy in his heart to have accomplished what he'd dreamed of being able to do for so long.


God bless us, every one.

Here is the man of the hour (of whom I write) goofing off as we drive through the light show at Willard Bay on Friday night.

Two grandsons enjoying the lights with us and their parents.

What's Utah without a dinosaur or two--and Indians dancing?

A purple tree for the daughters who love purple.

These critters were part of an animated sleigh ride that crashed into the tree

Santa started on the ground and flew up into the sky and out of sight, well, just like he always does, or course.

How's this, for the littlest angel daughter who really loves purple?

A tribute to our armed forces

Christmas Village downtown in Ogden (driving by in the car)

Streets of Ogden

We used to take the kids every year to Christmas Village.  It was always freezing and it looks most beautiful with snow on the ground.  This year, there's no snow but it is still cold.

Our last stop on the "lights" night was the cemetery where each year they put out over 6,000 luminarias as a gift to the community and to quote from a newspaper article:  "This is a way to reflect back to the good times, and what we have--the love that we have for our families and friends that we've lost throughout the years."
     -Mr. Leavitt of Aultorest Memorial Park.

Amen.

Little Red House

This looks like an "inn" that would be inviting on a night a person was tired and needed shelter.

Christmas is for Love

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  Luke 2:14

The Prince of Peace has come and he is full of love for us.

Sing a song:  I Believe in Christ

Precious, adorable Christmas card from our granddaughter and her family.
Christmas is for Love

Christmas is for love.  It is for joy, for giving and for sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and old friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages.  But, mostly Christmas is for love.  I had not believed this until a small, elf-like student with wide innocent eyes and soft, rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an eleven-year-old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle-aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister’s small son.  She never failed to remind young Mark that, but for her generosity, he would be a vagrant homeless waif.  Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt’s anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the classroom.  We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude for that hour of the day.  When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly about his mother.  Though he was quite small when she dies, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman who always spent time with him.

As Christmas grew nearer, however, Mark failed to stay after school each day.  I looked forward to his coming and when, as the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room.

“I miss being with you, Mark.  Is something wrong?”

Those large, gray eyes eagerly lit up.  “Did you really miss me.?”

“Yes, of course.  You’re my best helper.”

“I was making you a surprise,” he whispered confidentially, “--a surprise for Christmas.”  With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room.  He didn’t stay after school anymore after that.

Finally came the last day of school before the holidays.  Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back.

“I have your present,” he said timidly while I looked up.  “I hope you like it.”

He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden chest.

“It’s beautiful, Mark.  Is there something in it?”  I asked, opening the top and looking in.

“Oh, you can’t see what’s in it,” he replied.  “And you can’t touch it, or taste it, or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, and warm on cold nights, and safe when you’re alone.”

I gazed into the empty box.  “What is it, Mark?”  I asked gently.  “What will make me feel so good?”

“It’s love,” he whispered softly, “Mother always said it’s best when you give it away.”  And he turned and quietly left the room.

So now, I keep a small toy chest crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety and mirth and song; for rich food and wondrous gifts.  But mostly, Christmas is for love.

Our cute little friend from England

A Different Kind of Star Story & Everyday Christmas Charity

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. Matthew2 5:40

Those people paying off the layaway gifts at K-Mart, and other stores, are not even doing it to get a tax write off!  Can you believe such a remarkably creative idea?  People giving just to help others and not even getting recognized for it.  Amazing!  Marvelous!  Wonderful!  How many other awe inspiring words can we use for these unselfish acts of kindness?  Of course, there are many other examples such as dropping a donation into the Salvation Army bucket, delivering countless anonymous gifts and cash to charities and individuals in need.  Yes, Christmas is truly a miracle-of-love time of year.

Reflecting on past holiday seasons and all the years gone by, I am more aware of the truths the Savior taught and in them his wish that each of us cherish one another by loving one another--demonstrating that love and not just having it locked within our hearts and minds.  Say love, do love, reach out and pull someone into love's warmth.

The worth of your soul is not measured by what you may not have been able to do so much as who you are and how you have treated others along your way in life.  "Ah," you might say in all humility, "I am nothing, and I have done nothing much worthwhile."  Oh, but you are something!  You have loved as you lived; therefore, you have given the greatest gift you had to give.  It's the gift that truly does keep on giving as long as you never stop as long as you live.


The innate goodness and caring, the warmth extended from one human being to another, is something that is priceless above all things.


May you and your loved ones feel an inner peace knowing that you have given the most, the ultimate best there is to give.  May you have a deep abiding respect for this fact and value who you are, along with all other living beings.  Celebrate life!


May you have joy in seeing, comfort in hearing, fun in living, and time to find and experience the treasures all around you in people, places, and things.


May you experience even more of an abundance of love throughout the new year.  Only this one thing in itself can perpetuate charity in the world and save it from becoming a dark and dreary place.  Love nourishes hope and heals lonely hearts.

A Different Kind of Star

To appreciate fully the warmth of family and friends at Christmas, I am convinced that one, at some time in their life, must have experienced a Christmas without them.  I remember such a Christmas Eve during the Great Depression.  Homeless and penniless, I was wandering the country searching for a job.


This night--a cold one--I was in the railroad yard of a Midwest town whose name I no longer recall.  To escape the penetrating cold, four other men and I climbed into a boxcar.  Soon the train began to move, and as it picked up speed, the wind pushed through the cracks in the doors.  The cold inside soon became as fierce as it had been outside.  The car had been used for hauling flour and had some sheets of paper in it.  We wrapped them around our shivering bodies, but we were still cold.


Then one young man with a Spanish accent said, "We make a star for warmth.  We sit on floor back to back."


He tucked the paper all around us and took a place for himself.  We sat huddled there with knees drawn up and toes pointed out.  Gradually heat from our bodies spread from one man to another, warming us.  The young fellow began to sing, "noche de amor, noche de pas."  We sang for a long time, cozy and warm, until I dozed off, dreaming of other Christmases.  When dawn came and the train stopped, we went our separate, lonely ways.


That was long ago and my Christmases are comfortable and happy now but I've never forgotten those fellows who shared the boxcar with me.  I give thanks for them often, especially to the young Spanish man who showed us that no matter how bleak and difficult circumstance may be, it is always possible to be warmed by the light of the Christmas star.

Photos of Ice Welcoming Christmas to Ogden Valley

"I will rejoice over them to do them good . . ."  Jeremiah 32:41


This Christmas . . . 
Rediscover His love for you in all your fondest memories . . .  seek His peace in all your hopes and dreams . . .  Hear His voice in the laughter of loved ones and the greetings of strangers . . . for each new day is His gift to you and those whose lives you touch.


It is murky downtown in Ogden with an inversion that should lift tomorrow with the snow storm coming in.  The sun was out in Ogden Valley until I started driving down the canyon.  As I headed to town to do a couple errands, I noticed waves in the lake were splashing against the ice.  It looked so beautiful that I turned around to go back and get a picture.  As I got out of the truck, the wind about knocked me over!  It was bitter cold, but there was a crashing sound as the water hit the ice and broke it up on the edges.  It was fun to watch.  Nature is so marvelous and gorgeous.  There's always a surprised catch of the breath and an uttered "awww," around some corner or over a hill.

Looking through the trees at the "waves"

This may not look as dramatic as I described it, but when you don't live by the ocean, even tiny waves are exciting.

The water will soon be all frozen and the ice fishermen will be camped out in their little huts.  It means the bald eagles will be leaving too, since they won't be able to fish.

Frozen "waves"

Oh!  Look how this cow is dressed for the holidays!

Okay, so it isn't the real thing, but it is cute.