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One Christmas I will cherish is the Christmas of '95 I was a single mom with 3 boys, 10, 8 and 19 mo. I was going to Vo Tech working on a degree in IPT. With minimal child support and no job I signed my kids up for the Salvation Army Angel Tree. My oldest wanted a bike (my middle son wanted one too, his dads mom got him one). I was trying to figure out how I was gonna get him a bike much less anything else. The day came to get their stuff from the Angel Tree, a friend went with me to go get it. When they brought it and was wheeling out a bicycle, me and my friend started crying. I was so elated that someone actually got my son a bike. The gifts for my other boys were just as good not a bike but was something they didnt have. I was always grateful for that Christmas. By the next Christmas I had a job and some extra money so I paid it forward and also choose 3 kids from the Angel Tree one for each of my boys. I was glad that I was able to do for others as my kids had been done for.

When I was little, my grandfather, affectionately known as Deda, would drive me around for hours looking at all of the large Christmas light displays in the north Bossier area. We'd drive down Benton Road, into Greenacres Place, and back around through old Greenacres, slowing down to look at every single light in every bush, on every tree, and every house. Because I was little (and hence very gullible), my grandfather convinced me that Christmas lights grew on bushes, trees, and houses just like ivy does, but only during the month of December. I believed that even longer than I believed in Santa Claus! I'll never forget the moment I realized he'd been fibbing all those years& I told him, 'Deda, there's no way lights can grow! Someone has to put them there!' He just looked at me and grinned. He grinned the whole ride back home. He passed away in 2003 and not a Christmas goes by that I don't miss those rides to look at the lights. To this day, I always grin when I start to see Christmas lights in the trees and on bushes because I can hear his voice telling me 'Did you know those grow on those bushes and trees?'

Perhaps my memory of Christmas past blends a little warmth and yet sadness at the same time. And I guess that's just the way life is - a little of this and a little of that-You see, my dad had been in the hospital for three weeks since the first of December back in '83. It was drawing close to Christmas Day and things weren't looking so good for my dad. I was a daddy's girl and had been taking care of him-shaving him, keeping his hair clean and combed because he had always kept himself up that way before the hospital. But Christmas Eve day came and along with that was the news that he was slipping into a coma and would probably not make it through the next day which was, of course, Christmas. With all the love I had in my young heart for this man I began soaking cotton balls in glycerin to help keep his eyes from drying out since he couldn't close them anymore. I prayed silently with everything I had that God would please just not take him on Christmas Day. I was amazed to see sudden snowflakes gliding from the sky outside the hospital room window as if it was a quick response to my plea. For the first time ever in my young life then and never again since my more mature age now had this ever happened so close to Christmas Day. I realized this snow that I had never seen like this before might even leave behind a white Christmas and something I'd only heard of in a song. I leaned in close and whispered to my dad who lay there as if he was just peacefully sleeping. I described the drifting snowflakes that were falling outside and told him the beauty of it and that it was a miracle. It calmed my soul to see it and to share that moment with him. I knew in my heart that he heard and understood me. God heard me too and graciously gave me the longings of my heart. For, my father, after a strong fight, lived a few days past Christmas Day. We buried him on a cold, cold day December 29th. I truly believe when God takes something away he gives something in return. For only one year later I met the man who is now my husband of 32 years. To me it is no wonder that his birthday is December 29th. Now every Christmas season and as we celebrate my husband's birthday I am taken back to that snowy Christmas Eve scene in my father's ICU hospital room that brought peace and answered prayers in the midst of a difficult time.

Christmas has always been one of the most exciting times of the year for me. In fact the day after I am sad that all the work and festivities are all over. I love this time of year for many reasons, but I really like that people are more generous, more kind, and more loving, this time of the year more than any other. I remember growing up and never wanting Christmas to end. It is the one day of the year that people come together to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior.

One of the very best Christmas memories is the year that my drama department students adopted a family in order to make sure that the family had a magical Christmas. We did not want the family to know who had given the family the gifts and food, but the feeling we all had knowing that the family would not go without. For people who have never helped a family enjoy a Christmas miracle I can honestly tell you that there is no better feeling. Knowing that the kids would have Christmas memories to cherish forever and to share when school started back was the best feeling in the entire world. May all of your hearts be full of love and may you all have a very magical Christmas.

One Christmas Eve at my grandparents' farm, my brother and I didn't want to go to bed. Dad told us that Santa wouldn't stop by if we were still awake when his sleigh flew by. That tidbit of knowledge didn't phase us at all. Then we heard something off in the distance. It was the ringing of a bell....and it was getting closer! Grandma said that it might be the bells on Santa's sleigh. THAT got our attention and we bolted to the bedroom praying that we fell asleep before Santa reached the house. The next morning our worries were relieved as we saw our gifts under the tree. Years later I was helping clean my grandmother's kitchen cabinets. I found an old cowbell that I'd never seen before. I rang it and was immediately transported to that Christmas Eve night. Apparently our PawPaw knew that we needed some "help" to get to bed that night so he slipped out with the old cowbell and headed to the barn. As he slowly made his way back to the house, he would ring that bell just enough to get our attention. By the time he reached the house, we were both sound asleep and all the adults had a good laugh. Even though our grandparents have passed on, the memory stays alive because we still have the cowbell and we ring it at Christmas in memory of them.