|
|
|
WHAT'S NEW
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
The real meaning of Christmas
|
|
|
Heartfelt, real and inspiring, the spirit of Christmas is alive and well. Take a moment to enjoy the stories Homemakers readers shared about what the true spirit of the holidays means to them.
|
|
|
By Homemakers magazine and readers like you
|
|
|
|
|
Love and peace
One of my most meaningful family Christmas traditions is participating in the annual nativity pageant in our church. What is it that makes this amateur event so special? Is it the earnest young faces shining up at us as they attempt to show the message of Christmas -- love and peace -- brought to us by a child at Christmastime? Is it watching your children progress each year through the roles, from Baby Jesus to lambs; angels to kings and shepherdesses; then maybe even Mary or Joseph? Is it that it draws you away from the hustle and bustle of shopping and cooking and the endless "have-tos?" Is it the fact that inevitably -- even after several dress rehearsals when the "head shepherds" (frazzled parents) are ready to give up in despair -- the miraculous happens on pageant day and the performance is somehow just perfect? I guess it must be for all of the above reasons.
Kerry Lynn Grozinger, Ottawa, Ont.
Living in the moment
Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand -- and melting like a snowflake.
Marie Beyon Ray
Friendship and family
It was the first Christmas after my husband, Tom, died. My son (10) and two daughters (14 and 17) were eating breakfast before opening gifts. We were all quiet, each of us missing the special man in our lives. Suddenly there was a stamping of feet on the back stairs and a banging on the door. I opened it to find Santa ho, ho-ing and ringing a set of bells. He pushed his way in, hugged and kissed me, and said "Merry Christmas, Jean." Finally my older daughter clued in that it was her girlfriend's dad. After a hot rum, Santa left on his rounds with a Ho, Ho, Ho! Later, while we opened our presents, someone started to giggle, and then we all had a good laugh over Santa's visit. Thank you, Mr. Thompson, for turning a sad Christmas into a merry one.
Jean E. Hubbard, Vancouver, B.C.
The gift of time and good company
I left my hometown of Saint John, N.B., after high school. Having lost my mother when I was young, I valued every visit home with my father. Two days before Christmas 2004, I received the dreaded phone call advising me to fly home right away. My friend Kendra, with whom I've been best friends since first grade, came to the hospital to join the vigil at Dad's bedside. It touched me that on a day when most women are scurrying around making last minute preparations for Christmas, she would drop everything to be with us. Dad passed gently into that good night later that evening. I accepted Kendra's offer to spend Christmas Day with her. The gift she had given me the day before -- of her time when I was in despair -- was multiplied tenfold that day. The true spirit of Christmas is the giving of love.
Tracey Arsenault, Toronto, Ont.
A joyful sound
Each year as Christmas approaches and the Salvation Army kettles appear on the streets, my thoughts fly far back to another time and place. It was just after the war, and I was spending a year in the English Midlands as a young exchange teacher. A fellow teacher invited me to have dinner with her and her mother just as the Christmas break began. I would go by bus to Edna's home city, Walsall, some miles north of Birmingham where I was living.
Although a pea soup fog was forecast, I went ahead with my plans. I have never in my life felt so alone as I did that night when the bus lumbered away after dropping me off. Everything -- street signs, trees, buildings -- was obliterated by thick brownish-grey mist. So this was a pea soup fog! I stood rooted. Where to go? What to do? Then I heard the music. From somewhere in the distance came the faint sound of a Christmas carol -- unmistakably the sound of band instruments. I stumbled toward the sound, unable to see as far as my feet. Yes, the music was getting louder. I must have gone a full city block before I reached it -- a tight circle of four men, a Salvation Army band playing Christmas carols on that impossible night.
It was a tight knot of men and instruments and one grateful Canadian that reached Edna's door that night. The sound of Christmas carols wafting thinly through fog has stayed with me ever since. Each Christmas, as I drop my money into a Salvation Army kettle, I hear it once again.
Bernice Cleator, North Bay, Ont.
Connecting
Six years ago, our then-nine-year-old daughter, Sariana, had to endure an entire school year without her older brother, Geordie, who spent the year at university in the Netherlands. Imagine her reaction when I suggested that rather than send Geordie a ticket to come home for his Christmas break, we send him a Eurail pass -- and her other brother, Jesse, for company! I said I would not make the offer without her permission...and she said, "Yes." Geordie and Jesse ate waffles in Belgium, climbed La Tour Eiffel in Paris and had Christmas breakfast in Florence, Italy. Their last tourist visit was to the Canadian war graves in Holland, as a salute to their grandfather who had flown relief missions over that country. We all learned that a good Christmas is not always marked by being home for the holidays. Sometimes the true spirit of Christmas will call us away from our firesides or require us to make a sacrifice so that someone we love may enjoy an opportunity that may never come again.
Heather Burnet Sabbagh, Caledon, Ont.
Page 2 of 2
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 more articles |
|
|
|
|
|
|
