Wednesday, December 16, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 16: The Christmas Santa Almost Missed

Synopsis: It was Christmas Eve, and all of the elves and Santa Claus were excited to get all of the toys ready to deliver to children around the world. But, Santa had one last chore to do. He wanted to give little presents to all of the animals in the forest, including Barney Bear who was asleep in his cave. When Santa quietly places Barney’s present next to his nose, Barney snores like thunder and a mountain of snow crashes to the ground and covers the entrance to the cave. How will the elves get Santa out of the cave in time for Christmas? Find out what happens when the elves decide to ask Eli, Santa’s very first helper, and wisest elf for help.

Play the audio version of  “The Christmas Santa Almost Missed“ while reading along with the story below,
A Twin Sisters® E-Book - by Karen Mitzo Hilderbrand and Kim Mitzo Thompson


"The Christmas Santa Almost Missed" · 2017 
 Narrator: Kim Mitzo Thompson ·  Author: Cathy East Dubowski · Illustrator: Nan Pollard

Santa and his elves were up early. It was Christmas Eve, the happiest and busiest time of the year. “We’ll never get everything ready tonight!” said Felix. “Oh, don’t worry so much,” said Santa laughing. “We’ve never missed a Christmas yet!”


By sunset, every doll was dressed, every wheel was in place, and every ball had just the right bounce. But Santa had one more chore to do before he left. He climbed into a small sled with his elves, Gus and Gertie. “I’m off to deliver presents to my animal friends,” he said. “Make sure all the toys are on my sleigh by the time I get back!” “Yes, Sir!” said the chief elf, Jared. “Anything else?” “Yes!” shouted Santa. “Enjoy yourselves! It’s Christmas Eve!”


With the flick of the reins, Santa and his two helpers dashed off into the falling snow. There were presents for each of the young rabbits. And there was something special for the little fawn. “Some of my enchanted jingle bells!” Santa whispered to its mother. Santa even had something for Barney Bear though he’d been a bit mischievous this year. “Barney!” called Santa, “I’ve a present for you!” The sound of deep growly-bear snoring shook icicles from the roof of the cave opening.


Quietly Santa tip-toed into the cave. Deep inside the cave, Barney was curled up fast asleep. Santa laid Barney’s present next to his nose so he’d see it as soon as he woke up. “Merry Christmas, Barney!” whispered Santa. Just then, Barney turned over and snored like thunder- so loudly it shook the walls. “Santa!” Gertie shouted into the cave, “Look out!” Gus and Gertie stared in horror as a mountain of snow crashed to the ground. It covered the entrance to the Barney’s cave.


“Santa!” shouted Gus, “Are you alright?” “There’s no answer!” cried Gertie. “I’ll start digging,” Gus told Gertie. “You run for help and hurry!” Back at Santa’s workshop, the other elves were worried. “Santa should have been back by now,” said Felix. “It’s almost time to go!”


Gertie stumbled into the lamplight gasping for breath. “Santa’s in trouble!” she cried. Quickly, she told the others what had happened. Felix looked around sadly at the tiny elves. “We’re too little!” he moaned. “It’ll take us forever to dig Santa out. Maybe all night, Santa might miss Christmas,” shouted the elves. “I’ve got an idea!” said Jared. “Old Eli lives just over that hill. He was Santa’s very first helper and he’s the wisest elf that ever lived. He’ll know what to do!”


Quickly, the elves piled into Santa’s toy-filled sleigh. With a shake of their jingle bells, the reindeer leaped into the air. Minutes later, the elves stood before a small ancient cottage. The door was squeaked open and out peered a tiny elf. His white beard reached down to his toes. “That’s Eli! How can he help?” cried Felix. “He’s as little as we are and he’s old and crooked to boot.” Eli listened carefully as Jared told him what had happened to Santa. The old elf smiled. Follow me! he said softly.


Inside the dark cottage, Eli unlocked a wooden cabinet and took down a dusty pottery jar. Very carefully, Eli opened that jar. “It’s magic Sugar ‘n’ Spice Dust from Santa’s very first Christmas long, long ago. This is all that’s left in the world. I’ve been saving it all these years. But tonight we must use it to save Santa,” Eli chuckled. The elves rushed to Barney Bear’s cave. Gus was worn out from digging. “I haven’t heard a sound of Santa,” he moaned.


With a wink and nod, Eli mumbled some strange words. Then he flung his arm wide and sprinkle the sparkling magic dust over Santa’s sleigh full of toys. Santa’s elves had seen wondrous things in their work. But even they were astonished by what they saw. The toys in Santa’s sleigh sprang to life! Robots and teddy bears and dolls in pretty dresses began to dig with all their might. Steam shovels and dump trucks huffed and puffed as they scooped u snow A toy train hauled the snow as quickly as the busy workers could fill its cars. Shiny bicycles and toy race cars flooded the night with light.


Shouting with joy, the elves too began to dig. At last, near midnight, the miniature army of toys and elves rescued Santa. “Thank you all,” said Santa. “How lucky I’m to have such wonderful friends.” “Look,” cried Gertie, “Something’s happening to the toys!” The magic dust was wearing off. Slowly, as they were falling asleep, the toys wound down and then they were still. There were only toys, ordinary toys, once again.


Santa and his elves loaded the toys into the sleigh. And with a merry “Ho, Ho, Ho!” they dashed into the starlit sky. Around the world, children slept, dreaming of Santa and the toys he would bring. Not one of them would ever know that this was the Christmas Santa almost missed!



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Monday, December 14, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 14: The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus

Jean Shepherd reads "The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus" by Ogden Nash, WOR radio, New York City, Dec. 24, 1971. Read along with the story below

A Christmas Poem By Emily Ogden Nash

In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws.

In school he never led his classes,
He hid old ladies' reading glasses,
His mouth was open when he chewed,
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked

'No Admittance'.

He said he acted thus because
There wasn't any Santa Claus.
Another trick that tickled Jabez
Was crying 'Boo' at little babies.
He brushed his teeth, they said in town,
Sideways instead of up and down.
Yet people pardoned every sin,
And viewed his antics with a grin,
Till they were told by Jabez Dawes,
'There isn't any Santa Claus!'

Deploring how he did behave,
His parents swiftly sought their grave.
They hurried through the portals pearly,
Like whooping cough, from child to child,
He sped to spread the rumor wild:
'Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes
There isn't any Santa Claus!'
Slunk like a weasel of a marten
Through nursery and kindergarten,
Whispering low to every tot,
'There isn't any, no there's not!'

The children wept all Christmas eve
And Jabez chortled up his sleeve.
No infant dared hang up his stocking
For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking.

He sprawled on his untidy bed,
Fresh malice dancing in his head,
When presently with scalp-a-tingling,
Jabez heard a distant jingling;
He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof
Crisply alighting on the roof.
What good to rise and bar the door?
A shower of soot was on the floor.

What was beheld by Jabez Dawes?
The fireplace full of Santa Claus!
Then Jabez fell upon his knees
With cries of 'Don't,' and 'Pretty Please.'
He howled, 'I don't know where you read it,
But anyhow, I never said it!'
'Jabez' replied the angry saint,
'It isn't I, it's you that ain't.
Although there is a Santa Claus,
There isn't any Jabez Dawes!'

Said Jabez then with impudent vim,
'Oh, yes there is, and I am him!
Your magic don't scare me, it doesn't'
And suddenly he found he wasn't!
From grimy feet to grimy locks,
Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box,
An ugly toy with springs unsprung,
Forever sticking out his tongue.

The neighbors heard his mournful squeal;
They searched for him, but not with zeal.
No trace was found of Jabez Dawes,
Which led to thunderous applause,
And people drank a loving cup
And went and hung their stockings up.

All you who sneer at Santa Claus,
Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes,
The saucy boy who mocked the saint.
Donner and Blitzen licked off his paint


Frederick Ogden ‘Ogden’ Nash was born on 19 August 1902 in Rye, New York, United States of America. He was married to Frances Rider Leonard in 1931. He became a writer of humorous poetry. Frederick Ogden ‘Ogden’ Nash passed on at 68 years of age on 19 May 1971 and rests in North Hampton, New Hampshire, United States of America. - MakeFunOfLife
SpecialMomentsHome.com Christmas Poems

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Sunday, December 13, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 13: The Golden Cobwebs


I am going to tell you a story about something wonderful that happened to a Christmas tree like this, ever and ever so long ago, when it was once upon a time.

It was before Christmas, and the tree was all trimmed with pop-corn and silver nuts and pretty glass balls and little wooden toys, and stood safely out of sight in a room where the doors were locked, so that the children should not see it before it was time. But ever so many other little house-people had seen it. The big black pussy saw it with her great green eyes; the little gray kitty saw it with her little blue eyes; the kind house-dog saw it with his steady brown eyes; the yellow canary saw it with his wise, bright eyes. Even the wee, wee mice that were so afraid of the cat had peeped one peek when no one was by.

But there was some one who hadn't seen the Christmas tree. It was the little gray spider!

You see, the spiders lived in the corners -- the warm corners of the sunny attic and the dark corners of the nice cellar. And they were expecting to see the Christmas Tree as much as anybody. But just before Christmas a great cleaning-up began in the house. The house-mother came sweeping and dusting and wiping and scrubbing, to make everything grand and clean for the Christ-child's birthday. Her broom went into all the corners, poke, poke, poke -- and of course the spiders had to run! Not one could stay in the house while the Christmas cleanness lasted. So, you see, they couldn't see the Christmas Tree.

Spiders like to know all about everything, and see all there is to see, and they were very sad. So at last they went to the Christ-child and told him all about it.

"All the others see the Christmas Tree, dear Christ-child," they said; "but we, who are so domestic and so fond of beautiful things, we are cleaned up! We cannot see it all."

The Christ-child was very sorry for the little spiders when he heard this, and he said they should see the Christmas Tree.

The day before Christmas when nobody was noticing, he let them all go in, to look as long as ever they liked.

They came creepy, creepy, creepy, down the attic stairs, creepy, creepy, creepy, up the cellar stairs, creepy, creepy, along the halls --and into the beautiful room. The fat mother spiders and the old papa spiders were there, and all the little teenty, tonty, curly spiders, the baby ones. And then they looked! Round and round the Tree they crawled, and looked and looked and looked. Oh, what a good time they had! They thought it was perfectly beautiful. And when they looked at everything they could see from the floor, they started up the Tree to see some more. All over the tree they ran, creepy, crawly, looking at every single thing. Up and down, in and out, over every branch and twig the little spiders ran, and saw every one of the pretty things right up close.

They stayed until they had seen all there was to see, you may be sure, and then they went away at last, quite happy.

Then, in the still, dark night before Christmas Day, the dear Christ-child came, to bless the Tree for the Children. But when he looked at it -- what do you suppose? -- it was covered with cobwebs! Everywhere the little spiders had been they had left a spider-web; and you know they had been just everywhere. So the Tree was covered from its trunk to its tip with spider-webs, all hanging from the branches and looped around the twigs; it was a strange sight.

What could the Christ-child do? He knew that house-mothers do not like cobwebs; it would never, never do to have a Christmas Tree covered with those. No, indeed.

So the dear Christ-child touched the spiders' webs, and turned them all to gold! Wasn't that a lovely trimming? They shone and shone, all over the beautiful Tree. And that is the way the Christmas Tree came to have golden cobwebs on it.

THE END
You amay also want to read: The Story Of The Spiders from Santagames.net

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Saturday, December 12, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 12: Bubba Claus



A Note from Santa Claus

I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer serve the States of Georgia, Florida, North and South Carolina, New Mexico, Arizona, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, and Arkansas on Christmas Eve.

Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies so keep that in mind.

However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement, who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however, there are a few differences between us.


    Differences such as:

    1. There is no danger of the Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus. He has a gun rack on his sleigh and a bumper sticker that reads:"These toys insured by Smith and Wesson."

    2. Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds or a moon pie on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn't smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.

    3. Bubba Claus' sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin' coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen's head now overlooks Bubba's fireplace.

    4. You won't hear "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen.." when Bubba Claus arrives. Instead, you'll hear, "On Earnhardt, on Andretti, on Elliott and Petty."

    5. "Ho, Ho, Ho!" has been replaced by "Yee Haw!" And you also are likely to hear Bubba's elves respond, "I her'd dat!"

    6. As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus' sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety sticker on the back with the words "Back Off."

    7. The usual Christmas movie classics such as "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful Life" will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area. Instead, you'll see "Boss Hogg Saves Christmas" and "Smokey and the Bandit IV" featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus.
And Finally,
    8. Bubba Claus doesn't always wear a belt. If I were you, I'd make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.

Sincerely Yours, Santa Claus




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Friday, December 11, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 11: The Sugar-Plum Tree

"The Sugar-Plum Tree" is reprinted from Poems of Childhood. Eugene Field. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1904.
THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE 
 by: Eugene Field (1850-1895)

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
'T is a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of that fruit to be happy next day.

When you 've got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below--
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:

You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.
And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around
From this leafy limb unto that,
And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground--
Hurrah for that chocolate cat!

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains
As much as your apron can hold!
So come, little child, cuddle closer to me
In your dainty white nightcap and gown,
And I 'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

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Thursday, December 10, 2020

LoriAnn

Storytime Day 10: The Three Skaters


Advent Day Ten - Children's Christmas Story 2020

If you want to tap into the true spirit of the Christmas season, read this touching story.

'The Three Skaters,' like many meaningful Christmas stories, teaches lessons about the virtues of giving. The following tale fits right into this category. The story focuses on three men -- a farmer, a baker, and a weaver -- who reap the simple and satisfying rewards of giving to the less fortunate.

"The Three Skaters" | December 17, 2015 | by Paul Federico (Author)

In the faraway land of Holland, a baker sadly closed up his shop. He carried a worn sack with a few loaves of bread. Not many people came into the bakery that day, because times were hard and people did not have extra money for fresh bread. The baker had to bring home the leftovers so that they would not go to waste.

“Maybe I can make a nice bread pudding with these loaves,” said the baker to himself. “It would be a shame not to use such delicious bread.” The baker walked off into the cold, gray afternoon.

The baker’s mind drifted to visions of his family. He pictured them all warm and snug by the fireplace, waiting for his arrival. He knew his wife would be a little disappointed with the sales at the bakery, but she would take the loaves of bread and cheerfully make the best of them. He smiled beneath the scratchy wool of his scarf. His eyes watered, from the icy wind and from the joy that his family brought to him.

The baker blinked the tears away and kept walking. When he reached the frozen canal, he sat down upon a log and strapped his wooden skates to his feet. As he secured the straps, he looked down the icy canal. The land seemed to stretch out endlessly before him. The air was crisp and the wind was bitter. The baker shivered and pulled his scarf higher on his face.

About a half-mile down the canal, the baker could see the farmer coming toward him. Soon he was joined by the farmer, who was also his neighbor. He, too, carried a sack. The two men greeted each other quietly and began skating together. Their skates soon fell into a rhythm.

“Have you been to the market today?” asked the baker.

The farmer nodded slowly. “Not much luck, though,” he said.

“Same here. I still have a few loaves of bread,” said the baker. He turned his gaze down the canal and continued to skate.

The farmer also could not wait to be home with his family. He looked forward to warming himself by the fire and playing with his children. His youngest child, Lily, had been ill, and the farmer wanted to get her something special at the market. But he did not sell many apples and had to bring a sack of them back home.

“Perhaps a nice apple pie will warm little Lily and make her smile,” said the farmer to himself.

Times were tough for everyone. It was clear that both men did not need to say much to each other. They knew exactly how the other one felt.

As they continued to skate, the clouds grew thicker. The two men wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Soon they came to where another canal met up with theirs. They could see another figure coming toward them from the other canal. With a wave, they saw that it was their friend, the weaver.

“Hello, gentlemen,” said the weaver. He skated right up to the farmer and the baker. They greeted the weaver warmly, and they all began to skate together. Now the sound of the three men’s skates was all that could be heard on the smooth ice of the canal.

The weaver had also come from the market, where he had been trying to sell the beautiful blankets he had woven. Since no one had any extra money to spend, the weaver left the market with all of his blankets and no money. He tried to keep his spirits up, however, by taking pride in knowing that his blankets were beautifully crafted and woven out of love.

“It will be wonderful when we get home and out of the chill,” said the weaver, trying to start some cheerful conversation.

The other two men just nodded their heads in agreement. Their thick scarves and the biting wind made it hard to talk to one another. They continued along the canal in silence. As they passed an abandoned farm, the weaver suddenly stopped skating. He turned his gaze toward the old rundown barn in the middle of the field. He thought he heard an unusual noise.

“Stop! Listen!” the weaver called to his companions. The farmer and the baker quickly stopped. They returned to the spot where the weaver was standing.

The three men stood on the icy canal, staring at the old barn. Suddenly a slice of sunlight split through the clouds and shone brightly onto the barn. It was a most unusual sight!

“Listen. Do you hear that?” asked the weaver.

The farmer and the baker held their breath and listened. All at once, the three men heard the familiar sound of a baby crying. It seemed to be coming from the old barn, now cast in an eerie glow.

“It sounds like a child,” said the farmer.

“But how could it be? That farm has been abandoned for years,” said the weaver.

“Perhaps a lamb was left in the barn,” said the baker. “It sounds like a lamb.”

The three men heard the sound again and knew in an instant that it was not a lamb. It sounded, most definitely, like a child.

Without another word, all three men stepped off the ice and into the snow. They took off their skates and began walking toward the barn. As they reached the doorway, they could hear the baby’s cries beginning to soften as the gentle sound of a mother’s voice sang a soulful lullaby. The men opened the barn door without knocking. It was as if they knew that it was alright — that whoever was inside wanted them to come in.

Inside the barn, thin beams of sunlight streamed through the holes in the roof and walls. There was not a lamb that had been abandoned by the barn’s owner, but the scene inside the barn was most incredible.

In the center of the barn sat a young woman holding a newborn infant. She was singing the most beautiful and unusual lullaby. She stopped singing as she looked up at the men. Then she smiled.

The men could not help but smile shyly back at the new mother. They were very surprised that anyone was in the abandoned barn, but even more surprised to see a lovely young mother holding a newborn infant. The three men looked around the barn and saw a man raking hay in a stall. The man looked very tired. After a moment, he stopped his chore and addressed the three strangers.

“It’s not much of a home, but we had nowhere else to go,” he explained. “We are on our way to visit relatives. My wife had the baby before we could reach our destination.”

The farmer, the baker, and the weaver all turned back to look at the mother and her newborn baby.

“Are your relatives expecting your arrival?” asked the weaver.

“Yes, but traveling will be difficult now with the infant. We can’t stay here long, though. We have no food, and it is very cold and drafty inside this barn,” the man said. He then finished raking a soft pile of hay and laid down a thin piece of cloth on top. Then the man walked over to the mother, took the baby, and placed it on its makeshift bed.

The mother and father gathered around the child. It was obvious to the men that the young family was happy despite their hardship. The man and woman looked lovingly at each other and their new baby.

The family scene touched the three men and, all at once, they took their items from their sacks and laid them on the floor near the child’s bed. They smiled at the family, then quietly left the drafty barn. Without a word, the farmer, the baker, and the weaver walked through the snow to the edge of the canal. They bent down to put on their skates, then skated off once again.

Now all three of the men’s sacks were empty. They did not seem concerned with coming home empty-handed, however. They felt in their hearts that what they had done was right. Once again, the only sound to be heard was their skates on the ice.

Here’s how “The Three Skaters” ends:

As he skated, the baker thought of his home. The mother and child reminded him of his wife and children waiting to see him walk through the door. He felt blessed knowing that they were safe and warm in their small, but cozy house.

The farmer’s thoughts drifted to his sick daughter. How fragile and tiny she looked when he left her that morning, bundled up in her blanket. He thought of the newborn child and how fragile it looked in its young mother’s arms. He said a blessing for the young family left alone in that old barn.

The weaver’s prayers also went out to the mother and her child. He hoped that his handmade blankets would provide enough warmth and shelter for the family until they could continue on their journey.

The three men were so deep in thought that they did not notice their sacks getting heavier. Slowly each sack was filling, as if someone was dropping items into each one. But the men did not perceive the growing heaviness.

They did notice, however, that they were nearing the village where they all lived. A smile crossed each of their lips, because they knew that they would be home soon. It had been a truly strange, but amazing day.

As they reached the edge of town, the three men stepped off the ice. The crisp snow crunched under their skates. They still did not speak to one another. Each one took off his skates and slung them over his shoulders. Their sacks were quite full by this time, but still not one man made mention of it.

The farmer said good-bye to the baker and the weaver and headed toward his home. The baker and weaver also said their good-byes and parted company. It had been an unusual day, but neither the farmer, the baker, nor the weaver felt like talking. It was as if they all knew what the other one was thinking.

By the time the baker reached his front door, his sack was brimming and very heavy. He walked into his home and found his family just as he had pictured, all huddled around the warmth of the fireplace. When they saw him come through the door, all the children shouted at once, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy’s home!”

His wife walked over to the baker and gave him a warm hug. That is when she noticed the sack he was carrying. “Oh, dear! What a day at the shop!” she said, her eyes wide with wonder.

The baker put down the sack. Immediately cookies and cakes, hams and bread, teas and spices, fruits and vegetables came flooding out! There were also wrapped presents for everyone. The whole family began to cry with delight.

“Oh, Daddy! How wonderful!” cried the baker’s daughter.

“Dear, we are blessed!” cried the baker’s wife.

The baker had no idea how his sack got so full with such wonderful gifts, but he knew it must have something to do with the amazing scene in the barn.

That night the baker and his family had the best dinner ever. Not only did they have enough for that night, but for forty nights after!

When it was time for bed, the baker gathered the children in front of the fire and told them the amazing story of the family in the old barn on the abandoned field. He described how the sunlight broke through the clouds and shone only on the little barn where they were staying.

“It was a wonderful sight, indeed!” he told the children.

After he put his family to bed with full bellies and wondrous visions in their heads, the baker sat up and looked out the window. He thought of the farmer and the weaver. He knew that their night was as joyous and amazing as his had been. There was no need to wonder.

For all three men had witnessed the same miracle. They all gave everything they had out of pure generosity and the goodness of their hearts. And even though the winter winds howled outside, it was the warmest night the farmer, the baker, and the weaver had ever had. — Adapted by Lynne Suesse
Visit Author: Paul Federico where he is donating %100 of the profits to Heifer International. Heifer International's mission is to work with communities to end world hunger and poverty and to care for the Earth. One way they do this is to give food producing animals such as goats, cows, and chickens to impoverished communities. To learn more visit http://www.heifer.org/

Find more Christmas stories online at Zion's Mercantile

  • The First Christmas Tree
  • “A Christmas Miracle”
  • The Gift
  • The Legend of the Poinsetta


  • Some Image Credits: ©2006 PUBLICATIONS INTERNATIONAL, LTD.

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