Laurie L.C. Lewis's Blog: Bloggin' It Up Here, page 33

EMPTY-NESTER JANUARY

I was once terrified of this stage of life, fearful that without multiple voices at the dinner table, or when there were no more ball games to attend, (the staple of our non-church social life), life would be so radically different that I would feel lost in my own skin. Well, NOT SO!!!

There was a transition period, of course, like the day we arrived home after dropping our last child off at college. We were driving into town and I realized that after a week's absence from home, we'd need a few groceries. I remember looking at my husband and timidly asking, What do I buy? Two peaches? One quart of milk? It was an astounding change considering the fact that in actuality, sending the last child off didn't mean one less mouth to feed. It meant the sudden departure of his entire posse of muddy-cleated, sweaty-uniformed, two-extra-gallons-of-milk-a-week-drinking Little Debbie Eaters. What was I to do?

I was a little lost for a time. Holidays home were my heaven, and I died again when the planes departed, but eventually I could watch my Lewis tribe return to their collegiate and married worlds without tears, and then my wise husband explained this new stage of life to me.
"It's our house now! We can do whatever we want!"

It was a daring thought! I considered the ramifications of such a wild and crazy notion, and then giggled, "Cool!" Now, what to do with all this freedom? Well, I could draft a long list, but let me share just a few tidbits from my new Empty Nesters Wisdom.

First, somedays there is a little extra time and freedom, and some days there is not. Why? A variety of reasons come to mind. For example, your parenting style is not likely to change, you just need more gas to hover your invisible helicopter over your children's new airspace. Are you a note-in-the-lunchbox mom? Then buy stock in the US Postal service, because you will likely feel compelled to attach that little sticky note to a thirty-two pound collection of non-perishable items intended to keep your Ramen Noodle-eating child from suffering malnourishment. (Don't laugh . . . prepare. You'll thank me later.)

But time is more flexible now, and there is freedom in that.

The most wonderful aspect of this new stage of life is that there is time for exponential growth. Like an unlimited enrollment at Life University where you get to explore and learn new things while living with the room mate you know really, really well, these years are delicious. In fact, I've come to think of them as dessert--a time when all the sous-chefs in your life have contributed to helping you prep for the great learning smorgasbord, and now it's time to indulge yourself and everyone in your circle into the richness of what you have become and what you will do with what you have become. (My editor is cringing over that last elongated thought.)
I want to be a more active voice in shaping the world now.

I'll bravely admit something. I'm generally a people pleaser. It's an unflattering characterization, I know, but I generally like to make nice. This was not necessarily so in my youth. In fact, I was somewhat of a political activist--sitting on committees to argue policies and define students' rights and responsibilities--but after marriage and children, something switched inside. Other people's needs came first and despite my internal passion about the world, in the minutia of life, my non-parental voice stilled somewhat. (Notice the honest admission that only the non-parental voice stilled somewhat. After all, my children may read this.) Anyway, I became more involved in facilitating the expression of others' opinions than my own.

I had heard quiet rumors of the tongue-loosening that occurs after forty. Alluded to in Relief Society, where the sisters of the the LDS church meet to teach and edify one another, this rumored fourth decade burst-of-courage-to-boldly-fight-for-truth-and-righteousness gave me reason to look forward to the big 4-0, and biological fact or not, I did find a new inclination to speak my mind. Perhaps it was, in part, because my astute children's own minds were awakening to the complexities of the world that was bearing down upon them that I began not just fussing over issues but writing to my representatives and calling their offices. The aperture opened a little wider as I hit the fifty year marker, and now, I not only have more life experience, I have the time and freedom to do something with it. (See? There was a point to all this rambling.)

Perhaps this fourth-quarter reawakened-desire to change the world is universal to men and women. I've really fallen in love with President Washington in the past two years. Flawed? Human? Of course, but judging the man within the context of his own time, he was, without question, both brilliant and inspired. I love to read his Farewell Address and I recommend that every American do, (Washington's Farewell Address) for in reading it, one is awed by how desperately he loved this land and us, the generations that would follow after him. So much so that even in the last days of his public life, after suffering physically and emotionally over this infant nation thoughout his life, and when he desperately longed for nothing more than a short season of quiet peace, he could not walk away silently. Like a waning father . . . like a great patriarch offering his final words of wisdom, he spelled out three concluding warnings to his future American children.

One- He called on Americans to be unified, warning that factionalism would occur in our nation if political parties were allowed to polarize the people. (Hmmm. . . .)
Two- He warned against making alliances with foreign powers, and
Three- He cautioned his fellow Americans about the indispensable values taught through religion and morality. On this topic he said, "Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness -- these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them."

There was no resting on his laurels. If anything, it was among his most profound moments.

So, to all you Empty Nesters, and to those who worry about those approaching years. . . Don't! See them as the great harvest of all the experiences you've had to date, and then use them to do something grand. It's in us. Just like our predecessors . . . it's in each of us.Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2012 GIVEAWAY HOP

Thanks once again to Kathy at I AM A READER, NOT A WRITER, and to Babs at BABS' BOOK BISTRO for sponsoring this great hop. It opens right after midnight on December 30, and closes at midnight PST on January 3.

A New Year deserves some new reads, so I'm offering two free books--a new and signed copy of any of my books, and my gently-read copy of a favorite 2011 read. How's that sound?

Here are the details for my stop on the hop.

After working for a few years to make it happen, I recently found out that all five volumes of FREE MEN and DREAMERS either are available in ebook format for the Kindle! I could use some help spreading the word, so here's how you enter.

First, please make sure each entry is posted separately. I use Random.org to select my winner and this program uses entry numbers in it's selection.

Mandatory entry: You must either be or become a member of this blog.

Entry 2: Friend me on Facebook.

Entry 3 and 4: Tell others that my Free Men and Dreamers series is available in Kindle format. Copy and paste the following to your Twitter feed for a third entry, and to your Facebook page for a fourth:

The Founding Fathers' dream of "One Nation Under God" was not left to chance. Read FREE MEN and DREAMERS. Now available on Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_nr_p_n_feature_browse-b_mrr_2?rh=n%3A283155%2Ck%3Afree+men+and+dreamers%2Cp_n_feature_browse-bin%3A618073011&bbn=283155&keywords=free+men+and+dreamers&ie=UTF8&qid=1323907476&rnid=618072011.

That's it! Now visit all these other wonderful blogs! And please have a wondrous, joyous Christmas.

Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

MY FAVORITE CHRISTMAS EVE MOVIE

On previous days I've shared my peaceful plan for Christmas breakfast, my easy-peesy cookie recipes, and a few of my favorite stories. My favorite Christmas Eve movie is "The Nativity Story." I had just completed teaching the OT in Seminary when I first saw it, and I was dazzled by the historical accuracy depicted in the period and the characters. Christian devotees will be spellbound, and history lovers will be too. Spectacular way to personally experience the birth of Jesus Christ. Merry Christmas!



Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

PEACEFUL CHRISTMAS MORNING MENU

Christmas morning can be a daunting time for a mom, especially if you want to get something hearty and nutritious into your family before they tear into pies and cookies. It's especially difficult if you are also cooking a Christmas dinner the same day.

Years ago I found this delicious breakfast casserole recipe. The family loves it, and because it's assembled the day before, you can pop it in the oven before opening gifts and it's ready just as you finish up. We top the nutritious egg casserole off with some less nutritious but splendid and easy sweet rolls also made the evening before. These are staples of a Lewis-family holiday, and they have become as traditional as our tree.

I hope they make your Christmas morning special and peaceful!

Breakfast Casserole
This is the most delicious Put-It-Together-The-Night-Before recipe I've ever found. Perfect for a busy but special morning event.

Ingredients:
1 pound spicy pork sausage 1/4 cup onion 2 1/2 cup hash brown 5 large eggs 2 cups shredded cheese 1 3/4 cups milk 1 cup Bisquick 1/4 t. salt 1/4 t. pepper

Directions:
Cook and crumble sausage and onion together until sausage crumbles. Stir in the hash browns and cook for 5-7 minutes or until the sausage is no longer pink. Drain on paper towels, then place in a 9X13 baking dish. Mix together the eggs, cheese, and the next four ingredients. Pour over the pork mixture. Chill overnight or at least 8 hours. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes in 350 degree oven, then remove foil and bake for an additional 10-15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 60 minutes
Category: Breakfast
Servings: 8

Sweet Rolls

Yummy and evil!!!

Ingredients:
Frozen bread dough
2 sticks butter
cinnamon
Brown sugar
powdered sugar
few tablespoons milk
Directions:


Thaw 3 loaves of frozen bread dough until it is easy to work. Roll into a rectangle 12 inches wide by ½" thick. Spread with butter, then sprinkle cinnamon all over. Next, sprinkle a layer of brown sugar over the top. Roll up jelly roll style. Cut into 1 to 1½ inch slices. Arrange in a greased pan or pns. Let rise 2-3 times. Bake in 350 degree oven for 18-22 minutes, (until no longer doughy in center.) Frost when cool. (Frosting- Melt on low 1 stick butter. Add +-1 lb powdered sugar, 1 tsp. vanilla and 1-2 tsp. milk. I double this.)

Prep Time: 10 minutes Cook Time: 15 minutes
Category: Breakfast Servings: 12Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

MID-WINTER'S EVE GIVEAWAY HOP

MID-WINTER'S EVE GIVEAWAY HOP



Many thanks to Kathy at I Am A READER, NOT A WRITER, OASIS for YA, and THE DAILY HARRELL for co-hosting this hop. It opens at 12:01 December 21st and closes December 27th at midnight.

After working for a few years to make it happen, I recently found out that all five volumes of FREE MEN and DREAMERS are available or will be available in ebook format for the Kindle before the end of this hop! To celebrate, I'm offering my winner their choice of either a free Kindle download of any volume of my books, or an autographed hardcopy.

Also, as my Christmas present to each of you for supporting this blog and my books over the year, I'm offering my first novel for free to each person who enters this hop. It's a Christmas book titled, "Unspoken,"published in 2004. Keep in mind that it's my first novel, a sweet family story about forgiveness--no history, no wars, but a little romance. Just visit my web site and you'll see a link for a free download of UNSPOKEN.

Sound good?

Here's how you enter. First, please make sure each entry is posted separately. I use Random.org to select my winner and this program uses entry numbers in it's selection.

Mandatory entry: You must either be or become a member of this blog.

Entry 2: Friend me on Facebook

Entry 3 and 4: Tell others that my Free Men and Dreamers series is available in Kindle format. Copy and past the following to your Twitter feed for a third entry, and to your Facebook page for a fourth.


The Founding Fathers' dream of "One Nation Under God" was not left to chance. Read FREE MEN and DREAMERS. Now available on Kindle.

That's it! Now visit all these other wonderrful blogs! And please have a wondrous, joyous Christmas.

Warmly,

Laurie

Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

THE PUZZLE

The woodworker started his day like every other day. He stopped by his son's house to walk his adored eight year-old grandson to school, and after dropping him, off he headed on to his little Main Street work shop. There in the shop, by the large bay window, stood a homemade table covered by a recently completed jigsaw puzzle. He loved puzzles. In fact, a day never passed where the table wasn't covered with a puzzle in some stage of completion.

He worked on them throughout the day, a minute here, a minute there, whenever he took a break from his labors. Sometimes he would pop a piece into place as he passed by, but generally he would set aside a block of time in the lull of his work to sit at the table while he stared at the intricately cut pieces, trying to visualize each part's place. His favorite puzzles were the kind he could only buy at the hobby store, those whose pieces recreated the works of the great masters: Da Vinci, Matisse, Rembrandt, Rubens, and today he needed a new project to begin.

It was the third of December and the hobby store shelves had been thoroughly picked over by the holiday early birds. The only puzzle remaining had been opened and re-packaged without a photo of the completed image. It was the reason no one else had bothered with the toy, but the man found the dilemma intriguing and carried it to the shop to give it his best effort.

After hours of work he still had no idea what the finished project would disclose but he continued to move the pieces around the old oak table. There were shapes colored in hues of scarlet and a few blues but the bulk were in tones of beige and brown, none of which were descriptive enough to give the man a ready clue as to what great work his completed project would imitate. He smiled. The difficulty of the work didn't dissuade him. He knew that time and patience would reveal the image's secret.

He was mulling over some golden pieces he had snapped together. Two little of the intricate section was completed place it in a meaningful context. He looked out the window to get a new perspective, and noticed some of the townsfolk dragging out the Christmas lights to begin decorating Main Street. He saw people on ladders hanging wreaths, and others stringing lights and ornaments on the tree in the Town Square in anticipation of the evening's annual tree lighting ceremony. The woodworker smiled and when he returned his attention to the puzzle he was immediately able to snap the three blue pieces precisely into their place.

Encouraged by his success and the lack of customers, he tackled the puzzle with renewed enthusiasm until Bruegel's, The Adoration of the Kings, began to emerge. He continued to place pieces, soon revealing the stall and the donkey, some soldiers, a host of onlookers and of course, the three kings. The blue pieces had formed the veil of Mary who held the Christ Child in her lap, but after placing every piece he had, he sadly realized his puzzle was missing one crucial piece.
It was at this moment, that his grandson, returning from school, opened the door and called out a melancholy greeting to his grandfather who was on hands and knees on the floor, searching for the missing piece.

"Why so glum?" the woodworker asked.

"I want to be the one to climb the ladder and place the star on top of the tree, but they will only allow me to hang ornaments on the lowest branches."
"I see . . . and you don't think that's very important?" smiled the woodworker who was still searching for the lost piece.

"No," mourned the child. "I am eight now. I can do more than that."

The grandfather slowly rose to his feet and slumped into his chair. He patted his knee, calling for his grandson, and once the boy had scrambled up the man pointed to his puzzle.

"See. Despite all the work I have put into this puzzle it is marred because of the loss of one piece. One small piece," he repeated sadly. "The story is incomplete because without that piece we cannot reveal the face of the Christ Child. We cannot tell if He was smiling or sleeping, how He responded to the loving touch of His gentle mother or the adoration of the strange Kings. The story is obscured because one piece has not contributed its share to the story."

The boy raised his large brown eyes and stared into his grandfather's wise, crinkled ones.

The man hugged the small child close and kissed his head. "It matters not what job we do, only that we each contribute what is required of us." He tapped piece after piece of the puzzle. "When the work begins, who knows which contribution will be the one to reveal the face of the Christ?"

The boy scrambled off his grandfather's lap and peered into a crack in the old, wooden floor. He drew an object from the crevice and when he returned to his grandfather's side he opened his palm revealing a single puzzle piece. He snapped it into place and there, lying on the table before him, was the smiling face of the Christ Child in his mother's protective arms, surrounded by the three kings. He gingerly touched the holy face, then he began rubbing his hand over the completed picture, feeling the ridges that marked the boundaries of one piece's contribution from another's. Then, smiling lovingly into his grandfather's face, he hurried out the door, ready now, to simply do his part.Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

ELFEN RESCUE PLAN

It's a bittersweet moment for we older wives and moms as we watch our daughters and daughters-in-law take up the torch and carry out their first Christmas celebrations. The joy and wonder of childhood memories seems to dim a bit as they realize what we have all realized at some point--"Making a wonderful Christmas is a lot of work!"

I heard this uttered from the lips of a young mother who was overwhelmed by the daunting tasks involved in preparing Christmas for only three people. "Try making Christmas Magic for fifteen people, including extended family," I thought.

I'd never say it out loud. Such reality is too much for a newbie Christmas elf who will learn all too soon that being the Christmas "elf" is much like a being a window. If all goes well, the recipients of your planning and labor will see right past the bags under your eyes, seeing only the beautifully wrapped and carefully selected gifts stacked under a perfect tree, surrounded by festive decorations festooning a tidy home, boasting an abundant array of cookies, fruits and assorted holiday treats. Ahhhhhhhh. . . . . But miss a beat . . . let one ball drop, and somebody will likely utter a lethal satisfaction-killing line like, "What, no pecan pie this year?" or "Last year's tree was prettier," or the killer comment of them all, "It doesn't fit." Arghhhhh.

Try as we do to maintain the perfect, uncomplicated, sacred aspects of the Christmas celebrations, we tend to get a bit lost in the Santa-based revelry. I love it all, but elfing is a killer. Consider that the primary "elf" in the family begins Christmas prep as early as December 26th, setting up the next Christmas club, sale-shopping for next year's gifts, and picking up the discounted decorations to make the next year's decor festive.

Now store that stuff, (and try to remember where), as you take down this year's tree. The real shopping blitz may be a year-round exercise for bargain-hunters, but for those of us who can only do one thing at a time, the stress of playing James Bond to secure the secret "want-lists" from each family member probably only happens after the kids are finally nestled in school and the patio furniture is secured away. And then the real mission begins.

We shop, wrap, and calculate everything to be sure the checkbook holds steady while also assuring that each pile is equal in value and quantity. Then there's the shipping of gifts to faraway people. (Try stuffing a Holiday Barbie and a Fisher Price Riding toy into an economy-sized box!)

We select our cards, write a cheery letter, sign, stuff, address the envelopes, then mail them out, and one little check mark is all we get to place on our to-do list!

Moving on, we set the tree up, trim it, (and there's something sinister about tree lights. You know it. I know it. Nuff said,) drag out the gifts, decorate the house from inside to out, shop and bake enough food to feed the equivalent of the Tabernacle Choir, and we do all this between maintaining the flow of life--laundry, soccer practice, bathroom cleaning, normal meal prep and, did I mention, hosting Thanksgiving?

Feeling a little flat, we try to recapture the lagging Spirit of Christmas by reaching out to others in service, watching the traditional Christmas TV fare like "It's a Wonderful Life," "A Charlie Brown Christmas," or "The Nativity Story" and we plan for the reading of the Christmas Story from Luke 2. "

When Christmas Eve rolls around, (it feels like it comes about six days after Thanksgiving), we elves are generally so sleep-deprived we become an unstable entity who, like nitro, could go off at any time, melting into a puddle of tears, or feeling so giddy that they're likely to bust a move to a Nat King Cole carol, much to the horror of the entire family. It's not pretty, and we're not proud of it. We're just really, really, really tired.

So rescue an elf. You know where to find us. Give us a hug and a pat for this year's effort, and promise to don some gay elfen apparel and join us next year. And while you're at it, a foot rub and somer peppermint cocoa would be really nice!Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

CHRISTMAS STORY 2: "ONCE IS NEVER ENOUGH"

ONCE IS NEVER ENOUGH

Christmas Story 2007
by Laurie LC Lewis




John laid the Bible carefully on the end table and ruffled his young son's head. He smiled as Ann bent low to place their toddler daughter near enough to receive a good night kiss.

"How about we say prayers with Mommy and Sarah tonight, Jacob?" John suggested as he tenderly showed Jacob how to fold his arms. With eyes misting and his heart stirred by the too frequently neglected expression, the man found it hard to begin, finding his voice more easily as his son snuggled closer.

After the amen was uttered, Ann rose and guided the children to bed, leaving John to marvel at the simple turn of events that had precipitated the change in their family that night. He scanned the table where the critical shopping lists now lay, tossed inconsequentially upon the return home, their errands left incomplete. Odd, since just a few hours earlier he and his wife had sat there with their carefully balanced checkbook, newspaper ads and their list spread between them, strategically making the decisions about whom and what to shop for.

They had divided the errands between them— his wife and Sarah setting off in one direction while he and Jacob headed in another, beneath dangling snowflakes the size of garbage can lids, past inflatable snow people and their revolving, musical village. Twice, his rambunctious five year-old had dashed off to explore the colorful display, each time earning a stern rebuke from his father. His father's reproach only unsettled the child further until the man finally relented, allowing his son a few moments to survey the dazzling display that showcased the gems of the season—the must-have toys which were set upon blocks of rotating, plastic "ice", beneath which the names of stores and price tags were displayed.

With hands clenching his carefully-crafted list of errands, he stared at the scene, taking in the sounds of three dozen children, each one pointing out desired items while voicing their requests aloud. Soon he heard his own son's voice joining in the cacophony, crying out request after request for each and every item on display, and for a moment . . . for just a regrettable moment, as the crowds jostled him and the music and voices raised all around, he voiced his thoughts. "I hate Christmas. . ."

The bitterness of the words chilled his heart as soon as they passed his lips. Hungry to find Ann, to have her reset his anchor, he lifted Jacob into his arms and whispered, "Let's hurry and find Mommy."

Clutching his son close, he dashed off to the first store on his wife's list. As he approached the location he saw a crowd gathered around the store's window and he marveled at the attitudes of the people coming away from the area, speaking in soft tones, their faces as bright and soft as their smiles. Curious, he drew near and to his amazement, little Sarah was the cause of all the excitement.

On tiny toddler knees with her nose pressed to the glass, she knelt before a Nativity scene, babbling as she pointed from one character to another. "Beebee!" she cried out with excitement. "Nicey beebee!"

"Yes," her mother whispered hoarsely. "He is a very nicy baby, Sarah. He's a very special baby too. His name is Jesus."

"Jesus. . ." replied Sarah with reverence equal to her mother's. "Nicey Jesus. . ."

With a trembling finger, Ann pointed to Mary. "And this is his mommy. Her name is Mary. She didn't have a nice crib or a soft blankie for her baby, so she had to wrap him with pieces of cloth and lay him in this soft hay. The animals kept him warm and," she pointed out various figurines, "angels sang to him . . . and shepherds and Wise Men came to visit him."

Sarah slid her finger along the glass until it too pointed to Mary. "Pretty mommy. . . pretty beebee."

John stooped down, gently placing Jacob beside Sarah and sliding an arm around his wife's shoulder. Other children were now drawing close to the scene. Gazing at them, Ann wiped a tear from her eye and smiled as she explained the moment to John. "I was standing in line at the kiosk over there, struggling with Sarah who was crying and squirming. I was at my wits end when she suddenly became still and quiet. When I checked to see why, I noticed that she was staring at this store window whispering, 'Beebee . . . beebee. . .' After I paid the vendor, I put her down and she ran right over here. This is what she's been doing ever since. It's like she gets it, you know?" she sniffed. "It's as if this little child understands what's most important about Christmas."

"I know this story, don't I, Daddy?" asked Jacob with a furrowed brow. "Didn't you tell it to me once?"

Sliding his list into his pocket, John squeezed his wife's hand and raised her to her feet. Each bent down and picked up one of their children, placing kisses on their cheeks. "Once is not enough for the telling of the Christmas story, Jacob. Let's go home and read it again, tonight, because once is never enough."

Merry Christmas!
Love,
Laurie Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

ADVENTURE WITH GRANDMA

Who doesn't love and even need a few good Christmas stories to warm their heart and remind us how small and simple acts of Christmas magic can renew souls and change lives? This is one of my favorites. Enjoy!


ADVENTURE WITH GRANDMA

by Anonymous (But I'd love to find out!)



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 thosedays. "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, and 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 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 Bobby 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 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,"I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobby." 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 (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) 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 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 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 tag tucked inside: $19.95.Copyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)

PLEASE PAUSE FOR A GREAT CAUSE

Two years ago a father and his two sons were killed in a plane crash, and in a moment, the Mingo family lost all of their men. One family was especially hard hit. Jordan Mingo left behind a young wife and three small children--the youngest was only three months old.

Shelley Mingo works to support her family, but she could use some help this Christmas, not just for toys, but to ease the other expenses everyone faces.

Her good friend is author Rachelle Christenson, (author of Wrong Number). Rachelle has created a drawing with some great prizes. All the proceeds will go to benefit this family.

So please pause for this great cause, and help this deserving family as you count your many blessings this Christmas season. Five dollars multiplied by many hearts can do a lot of good.

Here's the link: http://rachellewrites.blogspot.com/2011/12/giveaway-hop-fundraiser-for-shelley.htmlCopyright 2009 Laurie LC Lewis, (To obtain permission to copy or reprint any portion of this post, please contact the author at lclewis2007@gmail.com)