Two Babes In A Manger
Author Unknown
In 1994, two Americans answered an invitation from the Russian Department of Education to teach morals and ethics (based on Biblical principles) in the public schools. They were invited to teach at prisons, businesses, the fire and police departments and a large orphanage. About 100 boys and girls who had been abandoned, abused, and left in the care of a government-run program were in the orphanage. They relate the following story in their own words:
It was nearing the holiday season, 1994, time for our orphans to hear, for the first time, the traditional story of Christmas. We told them about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem. Finding no room in the inn, the couple went to a stable, where the baby Jesus was born and placed in a manger. Throughout the story, the children and orphanage staff sat in amazement as they listened. Some sat on the edges of their stools, trying to grasp every word. Completing the story, we gave the children three small pieces of cardboard to make a crude manger. Each child was given a small paper square, cut from yellow napkins I had brought with me. No colored paper was available in the city. Following instructions, the children tore the paper and carefully laid strips in the manger for straw. Small squares of flannel, cut from a worn-out nightgown an American lady was throwing away as she left Russia, were used for the baby's blanket. A doll-like baby was cut from tan felt we had brought from the United States.
The orphans were busy assembling their manger as I walked among them to see if they needed any help. All went well until I got to one table where little Misha sat. He looked to be about 6 years old and had finished his project. As I looked at the little boy's manger, I was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger. Quickly, I called for the translator to ask the lad why there were two babies in the manger. Crossing his arms in front of him and looking at this completed manger scene, the child began to repeat the story very seriously.
For such a young boy, who had only heard the Christmas story once, he related the happenings accurately -- until he came to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger. Then Misha started to ad-lib. He made up his own ending to the story as he said, "And when Maria laid the baby in the manger, Jesus looked at me and asked me if I had a place to stay. I told him I have no mamma and I have no papa, so I don't have any place to stay. Then Jesus told me I could stay with him. But I told him I couldn't, because I didn't have a gift to give him like everybody else did. But I wanted to stay with Jesus so much, so I thought about what I had that maybe I could use for a gift. I thought maybe if I kept him warm, that would be a good gift. So I asked Jesus, 'If I keep you warm, will that be a good enough gift?' And Jesus told me, 'If you keep me warm, that will be the best gift anybody ever gave me.' So I got into the manger, and then Jesus looked at me and he told me I could stay with him -- for always."
As little Misha finished his story, his eyes brimmed full of tears that splashed down his little cheeks. Putting his hand over his face, his head dropped to the table and his shoulders shook as he sobbed and sobbed. The little orphan had found someone who would never abandon nor abuse him, someone who would stay with him FOR ALWAYS.
I've learned that it's not what you have in your life, but who you have in your life that counts.
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This is not a Christmas story , but it is a true story about God's protection and prayer. The baby that was born in that manger is the same God.
Power of Prayer
Author Unknown
Be a person of prayer...
Those of us committed to a lifestyle of loving the world need to learn to pray, to be sensitive to the Lord's nudges, to regularly spend time at the throne.
A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan...
While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival In the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of Lord Jesus Christ. I then travel two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.
Two weeks later I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards."
At this I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said "No sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone."
At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened. The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this story:
"On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong, I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?"
The men who had met together that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were -- he was to busy counting how many men he saw.
There were 26.
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It is interesting to see that the boy in this story only wanted a rifle for Christmas ! A wonderful story from simpler times - in 1881 !
A Christmas Story
The True Meaning of Giving
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered
their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for
those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all
outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life
comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling
like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been
enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We
did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa
wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front
of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was
still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much
of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible; instead
he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out
because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it
long though; I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was
ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's
cold out tonight."
I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for
Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no
earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores,
and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially
not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one
dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up
and put my boots back on and got my cap,coat, and mittens. Ma gave
me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house.
Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house
was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was
we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job.
I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to
haul a big load.
Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed
up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy.
When I was on Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in
front of the woodshed.
He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards,"
he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger
job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever
it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high
sideboards on. After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into
the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd
spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall
sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said
something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen
lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or
so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.
Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "Why?" "I rode by
just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the
woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt."
That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the
woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the
sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to
pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to
the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He
handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.
When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right
shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's
in the little sack?" I asked. "Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little
Jakey just had gunnysacks wrapped around his feet when he was out
in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too.
It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I
tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by
worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though
most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would
have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also
had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have
any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy?
Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer
neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in
from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as
quietly as possible, and then we took the meat and flour and shoes to
the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said,
"Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped
around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were
sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly
gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally
lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of
flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack of
shoes. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a
time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---
sturdy shoes, the best shoes that would last. I watched her carefully.
She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled
her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like
she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and
said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up
to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went
back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much
as I hate to admit it there were tears in my eyes too.
In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace
and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with
so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled
within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had
given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much
difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these
people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids
started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow
Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for
a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I
know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that
he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled
up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before,
but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably
true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I
started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and
me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed
when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get.
Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord
would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to
leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug.
They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they
missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to
invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The
turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get
cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to
get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around
again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the
youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved
away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to
say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't
even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said,
"Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a
little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for
you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a
little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and
me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and
I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw
little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in
those gunnysacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for
shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand." I
understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very
well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on
my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the
look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a
block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy
I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than
a rifle that night; he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Author Unknown
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A Dozen Christmas Roses
-- Author Unknown
Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't own any and he didn't like them anyway. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold. Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift.
He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend,"
Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity. Bobby had two older sisters and one younger sister, who ran the house hold in their mother's absence. All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother.
Somehow, it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing. Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to.
Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment.
As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when the salesperson told him that he couldn't buy anything with only a dime.
He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift.
The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."
As Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers.
The sound of the door closing as the last customer left jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid. Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box.
"That will be ten cents young man," the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the dime.
Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime!
Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?"
This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son,"
As he returned inside, the shop keeper's wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?"
Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime.
"When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too, was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.
"When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew Who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses." The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.
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Every year , I search for books that might have good , heartwarming stories for Christmas . This year , I have found some on the web. I would like to share them with you.
A great story about a man who wanted to celebrate real things at Christmas time ,and his wife who understood.
Here is a story about a beautiful tablecloth and how it helped three people at Chrismas time.
Here are some "tales of Christmas Past" that you can download for
free - in other words , it is a free pdf. e-book. Very nice !
TALES OF CHRISTMAS PAST
This isn't a Christmas story , but it does echo the parable of the talents that Jesus told. It is very inspiring .
MINISTER GIVES $40,000 TO HIS CONGREGATION
