Good Things Come in Small Packages - Pam Mytroen

My Grade Four Teacher, much to the delight of my parents, wrote on my report card that good things come in small packages. Though I was the smallest of my peers that year, weighing in at a scrawny 47 pounds, I was at the top of my class in spelling.

A girl in Mexico city received a shoe-box four years ago. She felt that the world had forgotten her. But when she opened her box and found simple gifts tucked inside, it sparked an undying hope in her. She is now preparing to become a doctor. She wants to give back to others. Operation Christmas Child began because one man in England prepared a few shoe-box gifts for child victims of war in Bosnia. Since then it has grown to over eight million shoe-boxes annually. Good things come in small packages!

In 1843 Charles Dickens, needing money for their soon to be born child, wrote a simple story originally called “Carol”, paid to have it published, and in under six days the publishers Chapman and Hall of London dispensed 6000 copies. Though it was only a short story it has endured for two centuries through print and theatre. His little ‘package’ impacted English culture. The next Christmas, December 1844 began a tradition that has continued for decades. All factories and businesses in England and North America closed their doors Christmas Eve and didn’t re-open until Boxing Day so that Tiny Tim and others like him could celebrate Christ’s birth. Good things come in small packages!

In 1940 a man sat in his hotel room waiting. He had a few minutes of spare time. He scrawled out the words and melody to a Christmas tune. It’s become the most popular Christmas song ever recorded. We’ve all sung it, hummed it, or enjoyed it at some time during the season: “White Christmas” by Irving Berlin. Good things come in small packages!

This Christmas we have the opportunity to impact our culture around us. We may choose to give a small gift, say a few short words, or help out in some small way at a charity. But those tiny gifts of our time, like a spark, can become a blazing lamp of hope in the darkness.

One of the smallest, most un-noticed gifts came on a cold winter night in a humble shelter when Jesus, a small package, was delivered to earth. The Word, the complete and final statement of God, arrived as a whisper. Today he continues to speak in a still small voice, yet his voice has the power to calm the storm and raise the dead. God knows that the very best things come in small packages!

Though your words be few and your gifts be simple, know that they have the power to last forever.

~ Pam Mytroen

Christmas Cake - Nesdoly

November or early December is the time
to start on this year’s Christmas cake
 
Pour several cups of sweet anticipation into a large bowl
    - the first snowfall when we hauled out the Christmas records
    - all the dolls in the Sear's catalogue
    - paint smells from the basement
cut in a pound of cold reality
    - the year I worked nights and slept through
    - the first Christmas without Daddy
    - the one I broke my wrist
and cream these two ingredients
 
When blended and smooth 
stir in – 1 cup at a time
the plans, ideas, long wish lists, 
credit cards and shopping trips, 
decorating, light's a'blinking, 
CDs spinning, here we come a-caroling -- 
keep on stirring
 
Fold in the surprises next
    - a perfect tiny poinsettia for the coffee table
    - a leisurely lunch on the Starlight Dinner Train
    - room on a standby flight Christmas Eve
 
Finally toss in 
    - a teaspoon of worry (surely I've forgotten something)
    - and a pinch of pride (the house glows by candlelight 
while we sip our eggnog Christmas Eve)
 
Give it the final flourish 
– signed! the last (late) card of the season
and bake in a turkey-fragrant oven.
You know it’s done 
when the last chocolate is eaten
all the tinsel is vacuumed
and the house is New Year tidy once more.
 
(Guaranteed to never turn out the same)

© 2004 - Violet Nesdoly
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Web: http://violetnesdoly.com
Blog: promptings
Poetry portfolio: Violet Nesdoly / poems
Daily devotions for kids: Bible Drive-Thru
Twitter: @vnesdoly

My Friends are Getting Published - Janet Sketchley

As well as being a member of InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, I also belong to The Word Guild and American Christian Fiction Writers (yes, I'm Canadian!). And I’m privileged to be part of an amazing online critique and encouragement group as well as one that's face-to-face. It’s a fine way to meet fellow writers, keep up with news, and stay encouraged.

Lots of writing friends—this is great. We understand and support one another like non-writers can’t. We’ve cheered one another on, we know how hard the journey is, and when one of them gets published, I think it’s almost as exciting as if it were my manuscript being accepted.

I can honestly say my first response is happiness for the new contract. I cheer and punch the air, and send a sincerely gleeful congratulatory email—364 days of the year.

The other 24 hours tend to spread out in small increments across the year. I’m still glad for whoever’s book will now be published and I wouldn’t want to take that away from them, but will it ever be my turn? Why is it happening for everyone else instead?

I had one of “those” hours not long ago and the Lord reminded me of Jesus telling Peter in effect, “If I want John to stay alive until I come back, that’s My business. You tend to yours.”

I had to choose to accept it, and to repeat it to myself regularly for the next while, but the message was clear: He has a plan for each writer, and the only plan that concerns me is mine. If he wants others to be published and not me, that’s His call. He’s the Shepherd, the chief Author.

And I can rest in the knowledge that if He’s preparing me for a publishing contract, it will happen—in His way and time. All I have to do is keep working so I’ll be ready. In the mean time He’s given me lots of friends to enjoy—both real and imaginary :-)

PS I do have a Christmas short story online this month in this month's Christian Fiction Online magazine in Dee Stewart's Multicultural Fiction column. It’s called “Too Much to Ask?” and is written under the pen name of Joanna Mallory.

© Janet Sketchley, 2009
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For devotionals, reviews and conversation, stop by Janet Sketchley's blog, God with Us: Finding Joy.

Shopping for Trouble - Glynis Belec

(A chapter from my book: Help I Need a New Fig Leaf!)

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, He was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And He took the children in His arms and blessed them. Mark 10:13-16

The long awaited weekend finally arrived. Shopping in the city with my delightful children promised to be filled with fun, frivolity and pleasurable purchases. I had two children, two hands, a full tank of gas and money to spend; all was well with the world.

The half hour drive to the city gave me an opportunity to proffer wisdom and reminders about honoring and obeying. I was certain God was pleased with my approach. Both little darlings nodded in agreement at my instruction and vowed to get along and listen.

Our shopping expedition was underway. As we strolled near a ladies’ wear store, a rack of marvelous sale merchandise beckoned me to take a peek. I took the bait and began fumbling through the fine array of fashionable styles.

There had to be more inside, I deduced. We entered the trendy store and I whispered clear directives to my tagalong twosome about staying close and keeping hands off the merchandise. I headed to a rack of shimmering dresses. “Mommy…I need to go to the bathroom badly!’ a little voice soon called out.

Sharply dressed sales clerks stared at me, no doubt wondering what I would do. The old bathroom excuse was my son’s finest tactic for getting me to hurry up, but it wasn’t going to work this time. I needed a few more minutes to look around. “You’ll have to wait…” I whispered and resumed my browsing.

Moments later I saw my smiling son come strolling out of an employees only door. “See. There is a restroom, Mommy.” I reiterated my earlier command to join his sister on the bench outside the fitting rooms.

A sales clerk with a pasted on smile handed me a number and, clutching two stunning outfits, I entered a fitting room close to the bench where my fidgeting pair sat.

I had barely struggled to get out of my clothes when the flimsy door burst open. “I wanna’ see, too!” My son’s voice bounced off the walls of the posh store. I inadvertently let out a scream. There I stood, red-faced in my underwear. All heads turned my way. I hauled the culprit into the now cramped change room and with gritted teeth strongly advised him to NEVER do that again.

After a difficult struggle in the tiny cubicle (complete with son) I managed to try on one of the outfits. I stepped outside the room to see if the mirror did me any justice. “They look like pajamas!” my daughter laughed. “Ssshhh!” I hissed noticing eyes upon me again. I nipped back into the room with son in tow.

It was my daughter’s turn to get restless. She had spotted a circular revolving rack heavily laden with ‘just in’ designer clothing. I walked out of the fitting room in time to see the entire rack whiz around and fall to the floor. Fancy apparel flew in every direction. I could have screamed. My daughter did.

A thousand apologies later and short of placing sin offerings at the feet of the fuming sales clerks, I left - without frock or finery. I now had the undivided attention of the partners in crime and they could tell momma bear was not happy. “D’we hafta’ go home now?” a sheepish voice sensed the impending doom.

As I contemplated the purchase of two collars and one short leash, my heart softened. How many times had I gone to God with a sheepish voice and how many times had He forgiven me? Too often, I have embarrassed God with thoughtless words and foolish choices. Yet, He still loves me despite my imperfections and foibles.

In Psalm 127:3 we are reminded that children are a heritage from the Lord and are to be counted as blessings not burdens.

So I counted my blessings for the rest of the shopping trip. Relief was written on the faces of my dynamic duo and I was especially happy when we read the sign in the next window - CHILDREN WELCOME. I’m sure they’ll have that same sign on the gates of heaven!