The most precious one
I don't recall the exact year, but I was a single mother of three boys. There appeared beside the tree a large box. It was wrapped and addressed for Mom. I wondered what could be in it.
When the boys and I gathered together to unwrap the gifts, they dragged the box over to me. I opened it to find another box. I opened that one and there was another. I continued opening box after smaller boxes until finally there was a very small one. It contained a mother's ring with all of their birthstones and mine.
My precious sons had pooled their savings to get this for me. It wasn't the most expensive gift I've ever received, but it was the very best one. They are all grown now, with children and grandchildren of their own, but are still my precious boys.
JEANIE WINTER
Little Rock
That artistic miracle
One of my favorite memories is from when I was 8 or 9, growing up in a small town in Iowa. Halfway between the big cities of Oskaloosa and Ottumwa, our small farm was likewise halfway between the country and the town of Fremont, population 500, where I spent all of my youth reading comics at the local drugstore, and watching Saturday night movies on a sheet erected outside the only grocery store in town.
My father was a volunteer firefighter, and he had a deep loathing of natural Christmas trees, having witnessed their volatility on the job. So it was not a big surprise to my family when Dad brought home an artificial tree, no doubt "fresh" from the Sears catalog. It was completely aluminum, all in silver, with a simplistic design of a trunk and a suitable number of branches that fit neatly into the holes drilled for them. There were no lights on it as you see on the artificial trees of today. Instead, my dad had purchased a spinning color wheel, which, when activated, made that tree glow like the northern lights.
I had never seen anything so beautiful or magical as the colors flashed off those shiny silver branches. I can remember staring at it for what seemed like hours before my mother would come out, switch the wheel off, and order me to bed. My fascination for this artistic miracle eclipsed my ordinary excitement and anticipation of opening my presents on Christmas morning. I would spend day and night staring at it, never once bothering to rattle a present with my name on it.
My folks are both long gone, and my Christmas tree today is artificial, but convincingly green with all the lights installed. And yet I still think back and wonder if that silver beauty from my past with its wheel of color wasn't just a little bit more inspiring.
TERRY PHILLIPS
Fayetteville
Man who changed me
I'm asked what makes me happy at Christmastime. For the first half of my life, happiness at Christmastime, as it is with a lot of people, was the materialistic trappings. Music, gifts, decorated trees, school break, and vacation.
Then I met someone who changed me. I met a man who was born in a foreign land. He was born in a small village. Poor and soon to be homeless in order to escape death, though just an infant. The village he was born in was called Beit Lehem. The word "beit" in ancient Hebrew means home; the word "lehem" means bread. In John's gospel Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life." Beit Lehem was named at least 1,400 years before Jesus said that, yet his birthplace was called Home of Bread. He is my bread and I am filled to satisfaction with no wanting. That is happiness.
On the Sabbath an appointed scripture is read from the Haftorah. The Haftorah is comprised of scriptures from the prophets of ancient times. This has been ritual for over 2,000 years. For most of those years Jews had been scattered all over the world with no home land. May 15, 1948, was a Jewish Sabbath. The ancient scripture reading appointed for that day was from the Book of Amos. The scripture says God says, "I will return my people to their land no more to be pulled up out of their land." As prophesied, on May 15, 1948, Israel was reborn as a nation.
This makes me happy at Christmas. And every other day. We observe this day as the birth of Jesus. He may not have been born on this exact day. But he wants to be our bread every day.
Merry Christmas!
MICHAEL SANDERS
Little Rock
Played hide-and-seek
Growing up was a wonderful time at Christmas. Our father would put out our younger siblings' Christmas gifts on Christmas morning. For my brother Dan and I, he would hide ours and we would spend the morning looking for our gifts. We would stop for dinner and resume looking after dinner.
One year we looked and never found our gifts. As we went back to school after Christmas, my friends would gather and tell each other what we got. When my turn came I told them I didn't know what I got for Christmas because I had not found my gift yet. They all walked away. Merry Christmas to all.
EUGENE ALLEN
Benton
Gift given with love
The best gifts are those given with love and are often those that can't be purchased. I received such a gift several years ago at Christmas. It happened at our annual Candlelight Service at First United Methodist Church in Russellville.
The church was packed that night, and everyone was squeezing together to make room for the people. My husband Robert, my son Aaron, and I arrived early and were seated near the middle of the church. Just before the service began, Robert got up and walked down to the front of the church. We wondered what he was doing but decided that he was helping to bring in chairs for latecomers. However, we soon realized that was not the case. To our surprise, Robert sat down at the piano. The audience became quiet. In the quietness, he began to play, "Silent Night."
We were shocked. You see, Robert didn't know how to play the piano. He had been secretly taking lessons for months from the church's choir director so that he could give me this beautiful gift for Christmas. Yes, he missed a few notes, but he played the carol all the way through. I have never heard "Silent Night" sound so beautiful.
When he finished playing, he stood up and said to the congregation, "I wanted to give my wife a special gift this year." Then he looked at me and said, "Honey, this is my Christmas present to you." There were more than just my tears in the congregation that night.
My husband passed away last year. We had 55 wonderful Christmases together. There were many gifts during those years, but of all the gifts I have ever received, I treasure this one the most because it was a gift of self, and it was given with love.
ANN SQUYRES
Russellville
Editorial on 12/25/2018