holiday happenings

I didn't capture our Christmas in pictures only video and I'm super sad about it. But here are my kidos wishing you ALL a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! (since walmart lost my xmas card order)

mr. bright eyes



Photo day with mommy



We like to pretend Arizona has winters

More photo day with mommy

my little "gangsta"

It happened...

The time has come that I feel the need to go private. I was hopeing to avoid this all together but maybe this isn't such a bad thing. I'll be able to see who really wants to read my blog hehehe!

Please send me your emails if you'd like to continue blog stalking me! I'll give you until the New Year then I'm making the switch.

Thanks everyone!

day 23

Here are the last two stories of the 25 days of Christmas. I hope you have enjoyed the messages shared and felt the spirit this holiday season. Merry Christmas!

"For behold, the time cometh and is not far distant, that with power the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity; to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in the tabernacle of clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles...and he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the creator of all things from the beginning..." (Mosiah 3:5-8)

The Gift of the Magi

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it.

When Della finished her cry, she attended to her cheeks with a powder puff. She stood by the window and looked out dully. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fin and rare and sterling--something just a bit near being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the looking glass. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let if fall into it's full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillinham Young's in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and grandfather's. The other was Della's hair.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. She did it up again nervously and quickly. She stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet. On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with a brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting.

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mess with a practiced hand.

"Give it to me quick." said Della.

Oh, the next two hours were rosy as she ransacked the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum watch-chain, simple in design, properly proclaiming it's value by substance alone and not by ornamentation-as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. Quietness and value-the description applied to both.

Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the eighty-seven cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap he used in place of the chain.

When Della reached home, she got out her curling irons and went to work. Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a school-boy. She looked at her relfection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me--But what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"

Jim was never late. Della held the watch chain in her hand. She heard his steps on the stair and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please, God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two-and to be burdened with a family! He nodded a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim's eyes were fixed on Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her.

"Jim darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you wont mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say "Merry Christmas" Jim and let's be happy. You don't know what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, as he had not arrived at that fact yet.

"Cut if off and sold it," said Della, "Don't you like me just as well anyhow? I'm me without my hair, aren't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say yoru hair is gone?"

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold and gone, I tell you. Be good to me, for it went for you."

Out of his trance Jim seemed to quickly wake. He enfolded his Della in his arms.

Jim then drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going for a while at first."

White fingers tore at the string and paper, and then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to tears and wails, necessitating all of Jim's comforting powers.

For there lay The Combs-the set of combs that Della had wanted for so long. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell with jeweled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had yearned for them without the least hope of possession. And now they were hers--but the hair was gone.

She hugged them to her, and at length was able to look up with a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And then Della leaped up and cried, "Oh,oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her own bright spirit. "Isn't it a dandy, Jim?" I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have a look at the time a hundred times a day now, give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," he said, "Let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em awhile. They're too nice to use just now. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now, suppose you put dinner on."

Eight dollars a week or a million a year--What is the difference?

The Magi, as you know, were wise men-- who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the Mage.

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6)

Twas the Night Before Jesus Came

Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house, not a creature was praying, not one in the house.

Their scriptures were lain on the shelf without care in hope that Jesus would not come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed not once ever kneeling or bowing a head. And Mom in her rocker with the babe on her lap, was watching the late show while I took a nap.

When out of the East there arose such a clatter, I sprange to my feet to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but angels proclaiming that Jesus was here.

With a light like the Sun sending forth a bright ray. I knew in a moment that this must be The Day!

The light of His face made me cover my head, it was Jesus returning just like he said, and though I posessed worldly wisdom and wealth I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the Book of Life which He held in His hand, was written the name of every saved man. He spoke not a word as He searched for my name; when He said, "It's not here" my head hung in shame.

The peoples whose names had been written with care, He gathered to take to His Father above. With those who were ready, He rose without a sound, while the rest were left standing around.

I fell to my knees, but it was to late. I had waited to long and thus sealed my fate. I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight. Oh if only we had been ready tonight.

In the words of this poem, the meaning is clear, the coming of Jesus is drawing near. There's only one life and when comes that last call, we'll find that the scriptures were true after all.




Tonight is Christmas Eve. This night, please read from the scriptures the real Christmas story:

Luke 1:26-38, 46, 47

Luke 2:1-20

Matthew 2:1-14

MERRY CHRISTMAS



day 22

"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the King, behold there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship Him." (matthew 2:1-2)

A Different Kind of Christmas

Martha had tried to ignore the approach of Christmas. She would have kept it almost entirely out of her thoughts if Jed had not come eagerly into the cabin one day. stomping the snow from his cold feet as he said in an excited voice, "Martha, we're going to have a Christmas tree this year, anyway. I spotted a cedar on the rise out south of the wheat field, over near the Nortons place. It's a scrubby thing, but it will do since we can't get a pine. Maybe Christmas will be a little different here, but it will still be the kind of Christmas we used to have."

As she shook her head, Martha noticed that Daniel glanced quickly up from the corner where he was playing, patiently tying together some sticks with bits of string left over from the quilt she had tied a few days earlier. She drew Jed as far away from the boy as possible.

"I don't want a tree," she said. "We won't be celebrating Christmas. Even a tree couldn't make it the king of Christmas we used to have."

"Martha, we've got to do something for the boy at least. Children set such store by Christmas."

"Don't you think I know? All those years of fixing things for Maybelle and Stellie. I know all about the kids and Christmas."  She stopped and drew a deep breath, glancing over to see that Daniel was occupied and not listening. "But I can't do those things for him. It would be like a knife in the heart, fixing a tree and baking cookies and making things for another woman's child when my own girls are back there on that Prairie."

"Martha, Martha," Jed said softly. "It's been almost a year and half. That's over, and Danny needs you. He needs a Christmas like he remembers."

She turned her back to his pleading face. "I can't." she said.

Jed touched her shoulder gently, "I know how hard it is for you, Martha. But think of the boy." He turned and went back out into the snowy weather.

Think of the boy. Why should she think of him, when her own children, her two blue-eyed, golden-curled daughters, had been left beside the trail back there on that endless, empty prairie? The boy came to her not because she wanted him, but because she could't say "no" to he bishop back in Salt Lake City last April before they came to settle in this valley.

Bishop Clay had brought Daniel to her and Jed one day and said, "I want you to care for this lad. His mother died on the trek last summer and his pa passed away last week. He needs a good home."

Jed had gripped the bishop's hand and with tears in his eyes, thanked him, but Martha had turned away from the sight of the thin, ragged, six-year old boy who stood before them, not fast enough, however, to miss the sudden brief smile he flashed at her. A smile that should have caught her heart and opened it wide. Her heart was closed, though, looked tightly around the memory of her two gentle little girls. She didn't want a noisy, rowdy boy hanging around, disturbing those memories, filling the cabin with a boy's loud games.

Yet she had taken him, because she felt she had no choice. Faced with the bishop's request--more of an order, really--and Jed's obvious joy, she couldn't refuse.

He came with them out to this new valley west of the Salt Lake settlement and had proved himself a great help to Jed, despite his young age. Sometimes Martha felt pity for him, but she didn't love him. With Jed it was different. He had accepted Daniel immediately as his own son and enjoyed having a boy with him. They had a special relationship.

Daniel mentioned Christmas only once. One day it was too cold and snowy to play outside and he had been humming softly to himself as he played in his corner. Suddenly, he looked up at Martha and asked, "Can you sing, aunt Martha?"

Martha paused and straightened up from the table where she was kneading bread. She used to sing for her girls all the time. "No, I can't, Daniel," she said. "Not any more."

"My mother used to sing a pretty song at Christmas," he said. "I wish I could remember it."

On the day before Christmas, Jed went through the deep snow to do some chores for Brother Norton, who was ill. Daniel was alone outside most of the day, although he made several rather furtive trips in and out of the cabin. On one trip, he took the sticks he had been tying together.

Toward evening, Martha went out to the stable to milk Rosie, since Jed had not yet returned. As she approached, she saw there was light inside. Opening the door softly, she peered within. Daniel had lit the barn lantern, and with its glow, he knelt in the straw by Rosie's stall. In front of him were the sticks he had tied together, which Martha recognized now as a crude cradle. It held Stellie's rag doll, all wrapped up in the white shawl Martha kept in her trunk. Her first impulse was to rush in and snatch it, but she stopped because the scene was strangely beautiful in the soft light from the lantern. Rosie and the two sheep stood close by, watching Daniel. He seened to be addressing them when he spoke.

"The shepherds came following the star," he was saying. "And they found the baby Jesus who had been in a stable." He paused for a moment, then went on. "And his mother loved him."

Marthat felt suddenly that she couldn't breathe. Another mother another day, had loved her boy, and had told him the beautiful story of the Christ Child with love that he hadn't forgot it, young as he was. And she, Martha, had failed that mother.

In the silence she began to sing. "Silent night," she sang. "Holy night."

Daniel didn't move until the song was finished. Then he turned with that quick heart-melting smile.

"That's the one," he whispered. "That's the song that my mother used to sing to me."

Martha ran forward and gathered the boy into her arms. He responded immediately, clasping his arms tightly around her.

"Danny," she said, sifting on the edge of Rosie's manger. "Let's go in and get the cabin ready for Christmas. Maybe it isn't too late for Jed--for Pa to get that tree. It might be a little different kind of Christmas, but it will still be a little like the Christmas we used to know."

"Do you mind it being different?" Danny asked. "I mean with a boy instead of your girls?"

Martha wondered how long it would take her to make up to him for the hurt she had inflicted these many months. "No," she said. "After all, the Baby Jesus was a boy."

"That's right," he said wonderingly.

She set him down on the floor and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Merry Christmas," she said. "Merry Christmas, Danny."

He looked up at her with a smile that did not fade quickly away this time, a sweet smile full of love he had been waiting to give her.

"Merry Christmas," he said and then added softly, "Mother."

day 21

"and this shall be a sign unto you. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." (Luke 2:12-14)

Christmas is for Sharing

I knew that Homer had wanted boots for as long as I could remember. He was eleven and I ten, and we had spent many nights under the blue quilts at the cabin talking about how great it would be to have some real boots--boots that would climb through thorny bushes, that would ward off rattlesnakes, that would nudge the ribs of the pony; we had planned the kind of leather they should be and what kind of decoration they should have. But we both knew it was just talk. The depression had been hard on Father's business, and even shoes for school were usually half-soled hand-me-downs.

Christmas that year had promised as always to be exciting though mainly because of the handmade things we'd worked on in school for our parents. We never had money to spend on each other, but we had caught early in our lives a sort of contagion from our mother. She loved to give, and her anticipation of the joy that a just right gift would bring to someone, infected our whole household. We were swept up in breathless waiting to see how others would like what we had to give. Secrecy ruled--open exaggerated secrecy, as we made and hid our gifts. The only one whose hiding pace we never discovered was my Grandmother's. Her gifts seemed to materialize by magic on Christmas morning and were always more expensive than they should have been.

That Christmas I was glowing because Mother had been so happy with the parchment lamp shade I'd made in the fourth grade, and Father had raved over the clay jewelry case I had molded and baked for him. Gill and Emma Lou had been pleased with the figured I'd whittled our of clothespins, and Homer had liked the Scout pin I'd bargained for with my flint. Then Grandma started to pass out her presents.

Mine was heavy and square. I'd been in the hospital that year and then on crutches, and I'd wondered how it would be to have an erector set to build with. Grandma had a knack at reading boys' minds, and I was sure that's what it was. But it wasn't. It was a pair of boots, brown tangy-smelling leather boots.

I looked quickly to Homer's package. His was a sweater. He'd needed one all fall. I wanted to cover my box before he saw what it was. I didn't want the boots; they should have been his. He came toward me, asking to see, and I started to say, "I'm sorry, bruv." But he was grinning, and he shouted, "Hey everybody--look what Richard's got." He swooped the boots out of the box, fondled them like treasure, and then sat on the floor at my feet to take off my half-soled shoes and put on the brand new boots.

I don't remember how the boots felt, nor even how they looked. But Christmas rang in my soul because my brother was glad for me.

day 20

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all people. For unto you thisday in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:8-11)

The Sixth Word

Just a week before Christmas, "I had a visitor. This is how it happened, I had just finished the household chores and was preparing to go to bed, when I heard a noise in the front of the house. I opened the door of the front room and to my surprise, Santa Clause himself stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. He placed his fingers over his mouth so I would not cry out.

"What are you doing...?" I started to ask, but the words choked up in my throat as I saw he had tears in his eyes. His usual jolly manner was gone--gone was the eager, boisterous soul we all know.

He then answered me with a simple statement of "Teach the children." I was puzzled. What did he mean? He anticipated my question and with one quick movement brought forth a miniature toy bag from behind the tree. As I stood there bewildered, Santa said again, "Teach the children, teach them the old meaning of Christmas--the meanings that Christmas nowadays has forgotten."

I started to say, "How can I.." when Santa reached into the toy bag and pulled out a brilliant shiny star.

"Teach the children that the star was the heavenly sign of promise long ages ago. God promised a Savior for the world and the star was a sign of the fulfillment of that promise. The countless shining stars at night--one for each man--now show the burning hope of all mankind." Santa gently laid the star upon the fireplace mantle and drew forth from the bag a glittering red Christmas tree ornament.

"Teach the children red is the first color of Christmas. It was first used by the faithful people to remind them of the blood which was shed for all the people by the Savior. Christ gave His life and shed His blood that every man might have God's gift of Eternal Life. Red is deep, intense, vivid--it is the greatest color of all. It is the symbol of the gift of God."

"Teach the children," he said as he dislodged a small Christmas tree from the depths of the toy bag. He placed it before the mantle and gently hung the red ornament on it. The deep green of the fir tree was a perfect background for the ornament. Here was the second color of Christmas.

"The pure green color of the stately fir tree remains green all year round," he said. " This depicts the everlasting hope of mankind. Green is the youthful, hopeful, abundant color of nature. All the needles point heavenward--symbol of Man's returning thoughts toward heaven. The great green tree has been man's best friend. It  has sheltered him, warmed him, made beauty for him." Suddenly, I heard a soft tinkling sound.

"Teach the children that as the lost sheep are found by the sound of the bell, it should ring for man to return to the fold--it means guidance and return. It further signifies that all are precious in the eyes of the Lord." As the soft sound of the bell faded into the night, Santa drew forth a candle. He placed it on the mantle and the soft glow from its tiny flame cast a glow about the darkened room. Odd shapes in shadows slowly danced and weaved upon the walls.

"Teach the children," whispered Santa, "that the candle shows man's thanks for the star of long ago. Its small light is the mirror of starlight. At first, candles were placed on the trees--they were like many glowing stars shinging against the dark green. The colored lights have now taken over in remembrance."

Santa turned the small Christmas tree lights on and picked up a gift from under the tree. He pointed to the large bow and said, "A bow is placed on a present to remind us of the spirit of the brotherhood of man. We should remember that the bow is tied as men should be tied, all of us together, with the bonds of good will toward each other. Good will forever is the message of the bow."

Santa slung his bag over his shoulder and began to reach for the candy cane placed high on the tree. He unfastened it and reached out toward me with it.

"Teach the children that the candy cane represents the shepherd's crook. The crook on the staff helps bring back the strayed sheep to the flock. The candy cane represents the helping hand we should show at Christmas time. The candy cane is the symbol that we are our brother's keepers."

As Santa looked about the room, a feeling of satisfaction shone in his face. He read wonderment in my eyes, and I am sure he sensed admiration for his night.

He reached into his bag and brought forth a large holly wreath. He placed it on the door and said, "Please teach the children that the wreath symbolizes the eternal nature love; it never ceases, stops or ends. It is the one continuous round of affection. The wreath does double duty. It is made of many things and in many colors. It should remind us of all the things of Christmas. Please teach the children." 



day 19

"And Joseph also went up from Galilee out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea unto the city of David, which is Bethlehem, to be taxed with Mary, his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was that while they were there..she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn." (Luke 2:4-7)

Christmas Day in the Morning

He woke suddenly, and completely. It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking. Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still! Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning. He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep, but this morning it was Christmas, he did not try to sleep.

Why did he feel so awake tonight? He slipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays. He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm. He loved his father. He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep. If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up! I wish I could manage alone."

"Well, you can't, Adam." His mother's voice was brisk. "Besides, he isn't a child anymore. It's time he took his turn."

"Yes," his father said slowly. "But I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words, something in him woke; his father loved him! He had never thought of it before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things. There was always so much to do on the farm.

Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no more loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up after that, stumbling blind with sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes tight shut, but he got up.

And then on the night before Christmas, that year he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day. They were poor and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and the mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe but something more, such as a book. And he saved and bought them each something, too.

He wished, that Christmas he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father. As usual he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie. It had seemed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas. He looked out of his window, the stars were bright.

"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"

"It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."

"Then Jesus ahd been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds had come..."

The thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn? He could get up early, earlier than four, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done. He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went to start the milking, he'd see it all done. And he would know who had done it. He laughted to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what  he would do, and he mustn't sleep too sound.

He must have waked twenty times, scratching a match each time to look at his old watch--midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock.

At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes. He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It ws too early for them too.

He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He kept thinking about his father's surprise. His father would come in and get him, saying he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed. He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go to get the two empty milk cans. But they wouldn't be waiting or empty; they'd be standing in the milk house, filled.

"What the..." he could hear his father exclaiming.

He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant.

The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before. Milking for once was not a chore. It was something else, a gift to his father, who loved him. He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milk house door carefully. Back in his room he had only a bed, for he heard his father up. He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing. The door opened.

"Rob!" his father called, "we have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas."

"Aw-right," he said sleepily.

The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself. In just a few minutes his father would know. His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.

The minutes were endless--ten, fifteen, he did not know how many--and he heard his father's footsteps again. The door opened and he lay still.

"Rob!"

"Yes, Dad--"

His father was laughing, a queer, sobbing sort of laugh.

"Thought you'd fool me, did you?" His father was standing beside his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover.

"It's for Christmas, Dad!"

He found his father and clutched him in a great hug. He felt his father's arms go around him. It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Rob, I thank you. Nobody ever did a nicer thing!"

"Oh, dad, I want you to know, I do want to be good!" The words broke from him of their own will. He did not know what to say. His heart was bursting with love.

He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh, what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the three younger children listen about how, he Rob, had got up all by himself.

"The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son, every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."

They had both remembered it, and now that his father was dead, he remembered it alone; that blessed Christmas dawn when, alone with the cows in the barn, he had made his first gift of true love.