Grade school students were recently asked, “How do you think God spends Christmas Day?” There answers were priceless . . .

He watches Miracle on 34th Street.

Lyle, age 10 It must be a day of rest because I think He likes those days of rest. Nicholas, age 8 He plays cloudball . . . It’s like football, but you throw a cloud instead. Ken, age 10 He goes to a big Christmas party and tries to find a date in heaven for New Years. Arnold, age 10 A lot of the time, He has to find out what went wrong with the big snow machine. Bobbie, age 8 He says prayers to himself . . . but that gives Him a headache after awhile, and so He goes and visits with some grandmas and grandpas that came up to Him in the last few weeks. Terry, age 9 He attends a big graduation ceremony where some of the angels get their wings. Anita, age 9 If it’s a He, He carves up the Christmas turkey. But if it’s a She, then She sets the table and She takes a nap because She did all of the shopping and wrapping for Christmas. Lauren, age 8 It’s the happiest day of the year for Him because His first Son was born on that day and parents always like to remember things like that. Colleen, age 8 God just relaxes and starts planning some miracles for the coming year. Carey, age 7 God goes to a place like the White Mountains and sits around the big fireplace and rests. God doesn’t need to eat, so God just takes in all the love from around the world. Marcus, age 8

—CC—

As you finish your Christmas shopping, don’t be like the husband that thought it would be nice to buy his wife a gift for Christmas. Always very conservative, he thought long and hard about what to get her.

Unable to decide, he entered a department store and in the cosmetics section, he asked a clerk, “How about some perfume?”

She showed him an attractive, nice smelling bottle of perfume that cost just $150 per bottle.

“Too expensive,” he muttered.

The young lady returned with a smaller bottle for just $80.

“Oh, dear, still too expensive,” the man observed.

Growing rather annoyed at the man’s meanness, the sales clerk brought out a tiny little bottle and offered it to him. “Just $25,” she said.

“What I mean,” the man whined, “is I’d like to see something really cheap.”

So, the sales clerk handed him a mirror.

—CC—

Charles Osgood recently wrote that the older we get, the more bittersweet Christmas sometimes seems. “Perhaps when we grow up, we are haunted by our memories and the ghosts of Christmas past.”

Osgood wrote a great poem about a Christmas past that I wanted to share today.

A Christmas Past

At Christmastime, one year when I was just a little guy, I thought I saw a tear in some grown-up person’s eye.

And I couldn’t understand why such a thing as that should be, At a time that seemed so happy and wonderful to me. And I asked this grownup person if anything was wrong, And she told me it was only that the lights were a bit strong.

Indeed, it did seem dazzling, the way the lights were strung, And it all seemed bright and magical to anyone so young. My grandparents were there, of course--my dad and mother, too. Lots of aunts and uncles; there were more than just a few. And my brother and my sister and some friends who would stop by, And we’d sing the carols about “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

“Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem” and always “Silent Night,” I suppose it was oldfashioned and that some might think it trite.

But World War II was going on with battles raging then, And yet we sang of peace on earth and of goodwill to men.

The yuletide log was burning with a warm and lovely glow. I can almost feel it now, although it was so long ago.

Our children aren’t children; some have children of their own, And the little boy I used to be is long since fully grown. But I found myself one holiday just looking at the tree, And thinking about Christmas past and how it used to be. An old familiar carol on the radio was playing, And suddenly I realized what a little voice was saying.

“It’s Merry Christmastime,” he said, “the season to be glad, But I saw you for a moment there, and I thought you looked so sad. Is anything the matter? Is everything all right?” “Oh, sure,” I smiled, “I guess my eyes were just dazzled by the light”

—CC—

And last of all, my favorite Christmas story of the week shared by Kay Przybille.

I’ve always wanted a beautiful shawl to wear with my winter dresses. So when I opened the present from my sister Wanda and saw that it was a white-and-silver shawl, I squealed in delight.

“I love it!” I told Wanda that evening. “I wore it all morning.”

“You wore it?” she asked, smiling. “It’s a skirt for the Christmas tree.”