| OCR Text |
Show Some people can tell that it's Christmas himself - the very same item that I have been hiding in the closet for six weeks. I especially know it's Christmas when I begin to receive mimeographed Christmas letters from all our friends - telling us that their four-year-old has just had his first solo concert, their 16-year-old has been chosen from among 1,227 contestants for a special Presidential Presiden-tial program for gifted youth, their 20-year-old daughter is marrying a cousin of one of the Osmonds, their husband has had three promotions in the last six months and they themselves are singing the solo part in three different Christmas productions produc-tions (also touching lightly upon the fact that they have gone back 47 generations in their genealogy, have put up - as a family project -- two years supply of food, and have organized a neighborhood preschool, pre-school, incorporating gospel principles, prin-ciples, safety rules and ballet and tap into one cosmic whole. And, boy, do I know that it's Christmas when I go shopping and try to find a parking place or get through a traffic light without waiting four cycles. And I have 16 different lists of at least 37 items each, all needing to be done at least 2 weeks prior to Christmas. Yes, I know it's Christmas...as I am hurriedly answering the phone, making dinner, planning holiday activities ac-tivities and then my husband comes in, quietjy coats and hats the children and grandma, hangs up the phone, helps me with my coat and escorts me to the car. And we sing 15 off-key Christmas carols as we drive from Bountiful to Salt Lake City and park the car at Temple Square. It is a chilly 9 o'clock at night (Where is the snow? I worry. Is there not going to be a white Christmas?) The crowds have thinned out We go to look at the baby in the manger scene. The children point to the camels and exclaim about the lights. And then three-year-old Neal looks up with a radiant face and says, "Jesus loves me, Mommy. That's why we have Christmas." All of a sudden I am taken back to a street in a noisy city half way around the world. People are rushing everywhere there, too. They are all striving and pushing and calling. call-ing. I see another manger scene another an-other mother' looking down at her child. A look of sweet tenderness passes over her face and a feeling of immense love and compassion fills my being and I again hear a little ; voice this time saying -- "Jesus loves us, Mommy. That's why we have Christmas." The snow finally does begin to fall, bringing a stillness to the night and a quiet moment to my soul. And, yes, now I can tell that it's...Christmas. ?By JULIESUE WESTWOOD : Some people can tell that Christmas is coming by the weather. weath-er. They see white flakes coming down and yell "Happy Yuletide" as they head out the doors with their skis. ; Some people can tell Christmas ii coming by the good smells that cbme from the kitchen cinnamon and gingerbread and pungent fruitcake fruit-cake - and the warmth that is more than just oven heat. : But I know Christmas is near when I can't find the greetingcards I bought last January at half-price and when I go downstairs to dig out the Christmas decorations and find that I've donated last year's wreath and garland to the hungry mouths of njbbling mice. ; I know Christmas is near when the children start coming home from school with glue on their shirts, telling me that I'll love the Christmas present they are making for me...and when my kids change their Santa Claus orders daily finally final-ly deciding adamantly on something that is unavailable west of the Mississippi. I know it's Christmas when my best friend tells me she's made all her presents by hand and that they've been finished since Oc-tober..and Oc-tober..and when the grocery bill triples because I'm using 50 pounds of sugar every week for holiday baking...or when I go to get the chocolate I had bought especially to make Christmas goodies and discover that the children have been carefully chipping away at it for weeks and there isn't even enough left to make a Hershey bar. And my husband comes home two weeks before Christmas pleased pleas-ed with the sale item he just bought |
