Merry Christmas!
The other night someone asked me the question, what
does Christmas mean to me? It means the sound of salvation army bell
ringers at the mall, the smell of goodies baking in the oven, passing
cars on the interstate with packages piled up in the back of them, hugging
kinfolks, some of them you enjoy hugging and some of them you don't,
eating too much, my cell phone ringing, “Hey, Daddy, I found the perfect
gift for Momma, can I buy it and charge it to you?” It means kids
screaming, “Daddy, they won't let me hang ornaments on the tree. Make
brother let me put the angel on top of the tree.”
Yes, Christmas is a fun time in the Cain home. But
last Friday, JD came home from the mall and asked if he could give one
of his presents to a friend whose family doesn't have very much. He
said the child wouldn't even get on Santa's lap, because he didn't have
money to buy his mom something if Santa brought him a gift.
That is what Christmas is to me, giving to someone
who needs it a little more than you do, making the world a better place
one person at a time. After all, isn't that what God did so many years
ago with the gift of the Christ child?
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