Really Easy Cute/Beautiful Christmas Craft Ideas

 I found this on Instagram, and I soooo wish I could have found it on youtube so you could just click on the video - but I looked and there are A LOT of them!

But I liked this on the most - so pretty and easy, too.

SUPER DUPER EASY FLOWER

Of course can use any occasion napkins and/or paper

Click here for video

Toilet paper roll SNOWFLAKE

CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO

SUPER DUPER SUPER EASY

STAR

Click Here For Video

Easy Origami Ornament

CLICK HERE

  

   

EASU DIY Advent Calendar

CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO

Twas The Month After Christmas!!! A Fun Read!

 

December Self Care

 

Night Before Christmas For Grieving Hearts

 
A Bed For My Heart

“It was the night before Christmas and Santa was busy making his rounds.
He was light on his feet making sure he didn't make a sound.

But he took notice that some homes didn't have that Christmas Glee.
So he decided to stop because he thought that just can't be.

He crept in a mommy's bedroom and stopped in his steps, 

as he saw a little angel hugging his mom as she slept.

The little angel looked up and cried, "Oh, Santa you are finally here!!
I've been waiting for you to help me let Mommy know I am near.”

Santa picked up the wee angel and asked him, "What can I do? 

I'm just a simple toy maker I can't make your mommy's dreams come true.”

So the two of them sat and they sat for a while, 

until the tiny angel jumped up and screamed with a smile.

"Let’s leave her a sign a beautiful sign from above,
Let her know it's from me, sent from heaven with love!!!”

So Santa dug and he dug deep, 

in that big glorious bag that was filled with lots of treats.

He pulled out a beautiful white feather that look like it was made out of snow.
And he thought such a beautiful sign that only a grieving mother would know.

He placed it on her nightstand and kissed the angel on his head.
Then placed him next to his mom as she slumbered in bed.

I think I'll stay here with Mommy and visit her in her dreams tonight,
She misses me dearly and needs to know I'm all right.

Santa made his way to his sled, And wiped a tear from his eye.
He fell to his knees and managed to cry.

Merry Christmas to all the grieving mothers across this big land.
And let it be known your angels are with you holding your hands...”

: : : Written by Joe’s Mommy : : :

https://www.facebook.com/ABedForMyHeart/

Incredible Christmas Song "Christmas 1915"

Heartwarming Christmas Story

It was Christmas Eve 1942. 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 Daddy 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 Daddy 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 Daddy 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 he 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 he 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 he 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 coat. Mommy 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. Daddy 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, Daddy 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 side boards on.

Then Daddy 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. I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. Mrs.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," he 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, he called a halt to our loading then we went to the smoke house and he 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 gunny sacks 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 Mrs.Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Daddy 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 he 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 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?"

Mrs.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. Mrs.Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Daddy said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then he handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. 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 my Daddy like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," he said. Then 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 Daddy handed them each a piece of candy and Mrs.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 my Daddy 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 Daddy had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Mommy and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Daddy 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. My Daddy 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 Daddy and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door he 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.

Mrs.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, Daddy turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your Mother 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 Mom 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 gunny sacks 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 Daddy had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. He had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Mrs. 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 of my Daddy that night. He had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

The Santa Within Me

by Jay Frankston

There’s nothing so beautiful as a child’s dream of Santa Claus. I know; I often had that dream. But, I am Jewish and my parents didn’t celebrate Christmas. It was everyone else’s holiday – a big party I wasn’t invited to – and I felt left out. It wasn’t toys I yearned for; it was Santa Claus and a Christmas tree. So when I got married and had kids, I decided to make up for what I’d missed.

I started with a seven-foot tree, all decked out with lights and tinsel. The year was 1956, and we were living in New York City. My daughter Claire was only two, but her eyes sparkled as she smiled at the tree. It gave off warmth that filled every corner of our home. I Put a Star of David on top to soothe those whose Jewish feelings were disturbed by the display. And, it warmed my heart to see the glitter, because now the party was at my house EVERYONE was invited.

But, something was missing, something big and round and jolly, with jingle bells, and Ho! Ho! Ho! So I bought a bright, red cloth and my wife made me a costume. Inflatable pillows filled out my skinny frame. A Santa mask, complete with whiskers and flowing white hair, made me look genuine enough to live up to a child’s dream of old St. Nick.

When I tried on the costume and looked in the mirror, there he was, big as life, the Santa of my childhood. I felt myself becoming Santa. I leaned back and pushed out my pillow stomach. My voice got deeper and richer. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

Claire was almost four and Danny not yet one when Santa first came to our house. They stood in awe and I saw in their eyes the fantasy and magic of what I had become. Santa was special. He was the personification of kindness and gentleness. He was a little scary, too.

For two years I played Santa for my children, to their fright and delight, and to my total enjoyment. And, when the third year rolled around, the Santa in me had grown into a personality of his own and he needed more room So, I sought to accommodate him by letting him do his thing for other children.

One day, late in November, I saw this pretty little girl trying to reach a mailbox slot, and saying, “Mommy, are you sure Santa will get my letter?” My mind began to whirl. All those children who wrote to Santa Claus, whatever becomes of their letters? A phone call to the postal service answered my question. The dead-letter office stored the thousands of letter in huge sacks.

The Santa in me went Ho! Ho! Ho! and we headed to the post office. As I began rummaging through the letters, I became a little flustered at the demands and greed of so many spoiled children. Most of the letters were gimme, gimme, gimme letters. But, the Santa in me heard a voice from inside the mail sack, and I continued searching until I came upon one letter that jarred me.

Dear Santa, I am an 11-year-old girl, and I have two little brothers and a baby sister. My father died last year, and my mother is sick. I know there are many who are poorer than we are and I want nothing for myself, but could you send us a blanket ’cause Mommy’s cold at night. It was signed Suzy.

A chill went up my spine and the Santa in me cried, “I hear you Suzy.

I dug deeper into those sacks and came up with another eight such letters, all calling out from the depths of poverty. I took them with me and went straight to the Western Union office and sent each child a telegram: Got your letter. Will be at your house. Wait for me. Santa.

I knew I could not possibly fill all the needs of these children, but if I could bring them hope, if I could make them feel that their cries did not go unheard… I budgeted $150 and went out and bought presents. On Christmas day, my wife drove me around. It had snowed graciously the night before, and the streets were thick with fresh powder.

My first call took me to the outskirts of the city. The letter from Peter Barski had read:
Dear Santa, I am ten years old and I am an only child. I’m not sad because I’m poor, but because I’m lonely. I know you have many people to see and you probably have no time for me. So, I don’t ask you to come to my house or bring anything. But, could you send me a letter so I know know you exist?

Dear Peter, my telegram began, not only do I exist, but I’ll be there on Christmas Day. Wait for me.

Peter’s house was wedged between two tall buildings. Its roof was of corrugated metal and it was more of a shack than a house. With a bag of toys slung over my shoulder, I walked up the steps and knocked. A heavyset man opened the door.

He said a word in Polish and his hand went to his face. “Please,” he stuttered. “The boy… at Mass. I go get him. Please wait.” He threw on a coat and, assured that I would wait, ran down the street.

I stood there in front of the house, feeling good. Then, across the street, I noticed another shack; through the window I could see little back faces peering at me, and tiny hands waving. The door opened shyly and some voices called out, “Hi ya, Santa.”

I Ho! Ho! Hoed! my way over there, and a woman asked if I’d come in, and I did. Inside were five kids from one to seven years old. I spoke to them of Santa and the spirit of love, which is the spirit of Christmas. The, seeing the torn Christmas wrappings, I asked if they liked what Santa had brought them. Each thanked me – for the woolen socks, the sweater, and the warm underwear.

“Didn’t I bring you any toys?” They shook their heads sadly. “Ho! Ho! Ho! I slipped up.” said I, “We’ll have to fix that.”

Knowing that we had extra toys in the car, I gave each child a toy. There was joy and laughter, but when Santa got ready to leave, I noticed one girl crying. I bent down and asked her, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Santa,” she sobbed, “I’m so happy.” And the tears rolled from my eyes under the rubber mask.

As I stepped out on the street, “Panie, Panie, Prosze…? Sir, sir, please,” I heard Mr. Barski say across the way.

Peter just stood there and looked as Santa walked into the house. “You came,” he said. “I wrote and… and you came.”

When he recovered, I spoke with him about loneliness and friendship, and gave him a chemistry set and a basketball. He thanked me profusely, and his mother asked something of her husband in Polish. My parents were Polish, so I speak a little and understand a lot. “From the North Pole,” I said in Polish.

She looked at me with astonishment. “You speak Polish?”

“Of course,” I said. “Santa speaks all languages.” And I left them in joy and wonder.

The following year, when the momentum of Christmas began to build, I felt a stirring and I knew that the Santa within me was back. So I returned to the post office and to those heartbreaking letters. I enjoyed playing Santa so much that I did it the next year and the next. Then, at age ten, Claire handed me a poem that began:

I know that Santa’s make-believe
But I still love him so
‘Cause he’m my daddy
Ho! Ho! Ho!

So, now she knew. I took her to the basement where the toys were and let her rummage through Santa’s shop, ogling at the the imposing array. She read the letters and cried with me and became a true Santa’s helper, sorting and wrapping the toys in preparation for my rounds.

I made them for 12 years, listening for the cries of children muffled in unopened envelopes, answering the call of as many as I could – frustrated at not being able to answer them all.

As time went on, word got out about Santa Claus and me, and manufacturers sent me cartons of toys. Having started with 20 children, I had wound up with 120, door to door, from one end of New York City to the other, from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day.

On my last call a few years ago, I knew there were four children in the family and I came prepared. The house was small and sparsely furnished. The kids had been waiting all day, staring at the telegram and repeating to their skeptical mother, “He’ll come, Mommy, he’ll come.”

As I rang the bell, the door swung open and they all reach for my hands and hold on. “Hi ya, Santa. We just knew you’s come.” And these poor kids were beaming with happiness and laughter.

I took each of them on my lap and told stories of joy, hope and waiting, and gave them each a toy. All the while there’s this fifth child standing the the corner, a cute girl with blond hair and blue eyes.

I turned to her and said, “You’re not part of this family, are you?’

She shook her head sadly and whispered, “No.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Lisa.”

“How old are you?”

“Seven.”

“Come, sit on my lap.” She hesitated, but them came over. “Did you get any toys for Christmas? I asked.

“No.” she said.

I took out a big, beautiful doll. “Do you want this doll?”

“No,” she said, and leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’m Jewish.”

I nudged her and whispered back, “I’m Jewish, too.” Lisa grinned from ear to ear. She took the doll I had handed her, hugged it, and ran out of the room.

I don’t know which of us was happier – Lisa or the Santa in me.

Merry Christmas, my friends…

Incredible Acapella - "Mary Did You Know"

Mary...the mother of Christ---"Mary, Did You Know?"

VIDEO OF THE DAY - CHRISTMAS!

"Mary Did You Know" 

performed by CeeLo Green

featuring scenes from the epic miniseries THE BIBLE. 

Marine's Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone, 

In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give 

and to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see, 

no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand. 

On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land. 

With medals and badges, awards of all kind, 

a sobering thought soon came to my mind.

For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen. 

This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more, 

So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door. 

And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone, 

Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,

Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine. 

Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read? 

Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan. 

I soon understood, this was more than a man.

For I realized the families that I saw that night, 

Owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight. 

Soon around the Nation, the children would play, 

And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,

Because of Marines like this one lying here. 

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone, 

On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home. 

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye. 

I dropped to my knees and I started to cry. 

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice, 

“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice 

I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more. 

My life is my God, my country, my Corps.” 

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep, 

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.

I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill. 

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red, 

And covered this Marine from his toes to his head. 

Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold, 

With an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold. 

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride, 

And for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside. 

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night, 

This guardian of honor so willing to fight. 

But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure, 

Said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.” 

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,

Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

✽¸.•♥♥•.¸✽✽¸.•♥♥•.¸✽✽¸.•♥♥•.¸✽✽¸.•♥♥•.✽¸.•♥♥•.¸✽✽¸.•♥♥•

History of Handel's Messiah

Here is a wonderful history of the life of Handel and the writing of the Messiah.

In this BYUtv original production, take a look at Handel's life leading up to his debut of the Messiah. See performances of the Messiah, and travel to some of the locations where Handel once lived.

Handel's Messiah

Originally aired: 11/27/2014

http://www.byutv.org/watch/c981eb70-3199-4d1f-8a65-8fa6b70d6946/handels-messiah-handels-messiah

(I tried to find this in youtube, but couldn't!)

THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

My husband and I had been happily married (most of the time) for five years but hadn't been blessed with a baby. 

I decided to do some serious praying and promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with His word  as my guide. 

God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son. 

The next year God blessed us with another son. 

The following year, He blessed us with yet another son.  

The year after that we were blessed with a daughter. 

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old. 

I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it.  As a minister once told me, "If you pray for rain, make sure you carry an umbrella." 

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as they lay in their cribs..  

I was off to a good start.  God had entrusted me with four children and I didn't want to disappoint Him. 

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks. 

I tried to be understanding ... when they started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to catch all twenty-three frogs. 

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess..  

In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, 

I still thank God daily for my children. 

While I couldn't keep my promise to be a perfect mother - I didn't even come close ... I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God.  

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to "wash up" Jesus, too. 

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give 

us his "last wife." 

My proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant. 

My daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine. 

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes."  

But he was nervous and said,  "The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes."  

My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes." 

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing.  

I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying,  

"Mama-mama."  

Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived. 

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger and announced, "We are the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts of gold,  common sense and fur." 

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation.  

"I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one," laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes  

"For the rest of my life, I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense and fur." 

"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing," I said as I dug through my purse for an aspirin. 

Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master. 

Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher . 

Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer. 

Had no army, yet kings feared Him. 

He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world. He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him. 

He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today. 

Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us. 

If you believe in God and in Jesus Christ His Son, take a moment to say a silent thank you prayer.  We have been greatly blessed!

GOD BLESS YOU ALL! 

  

  

AND, MAY YOU HAVE A VERY BLESSED CHRIST MAS  

Yes! It is CHRISTMAS!!

Apparently the White House referred to Christmas Trees as Holiday Trees for the first time this year, which prompted CBS presenter, Ben Stein, to present this piece which I would like to share with you.

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.

My confession:
I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejewelled trees, Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a nativity scene, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'

In light of recent events... terrorist attacks, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said okay.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.
Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.

Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.

Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing yet?

My Best Regards, Honestly and respectfully,

Ben Stein


I received this in 2011, but I believe it was written in 2005

The USAF Band - 2014 Holiday Flash Mob

Here's to the Air Force!!

New Christmas Song (It's Really Good with a Great Message)

I Wasn't Feeling The Christmas Spirit Until I Heard This

Wow!  This is awesome – Well worth your time.  

Some pretty awesome harmonies, too!

Pretty amazing what people can do with their voices!

No Instruments in this incredible video!

The 12 Days of Christmas

A different kind of 12 days of Christmas
compiled by Americas Funniest Home Videos -
America's longest running funny video television program.

This Says It ALL!!

May you have Peace and Joy this holiday season 

and throughout the New Year. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO

Where’s the Line to see Jesus

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Nativity - Beautiful!

YOUR FIRST CHRISTMAS CARD

T'was the Month before Christmas

T'was the month before Christmas
When all through our land,
Not a Christian was praying
Nor taking a stand.

See the PC Police had taken away
The reason for Christmas - no one could say.
The children were told by their schools not to sing
About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.

It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say
December 25th is just a ' Holiday'.
Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!

CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-Pod
Something was changing, something quite odd!
Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.

As Targets were hanging their trees upside down
At Lowe's the word Christmas - was no where to be found.
At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears
You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty
Are words that were used to intimidate me.
Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzer
On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton!

At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter
To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.
And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace

The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded
The reason for the season, stopped before it started.
So as you celebrate 'Winter Break' under your 'Dream Tree'
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.

Choose your words carefully, choose what you say
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS,
not Happy Holiday!
Please, all Christians join together and
wish everyone you meet
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Christ is The Reason' for the Christ-mas Season!