I'm
Spending Christmas in Heaven
The Innkeeper the innkeeper tells his story
"Good, morning, and hello. Yes, I am that inn keeper and I have been carrying around with me the burden of my actions for 2000 years. I would like to share for a change my side of the story. Yes, I do not deny, I put that young couple out in the barn. She was going to have a child and I knew from the look of silence and determination in her face that, that child was going to be born real soon. So, I told them I didn't have any room in my inn for them. Man, did I hear it from my wife. "How could you do such an inhuman thing as put that young couple out there?" she said.
You see, I felt that with all the drinking, the fights and the partying going on in the various rooms of my inn, why that would have been the most thoughtless, most inhuman thing to do, to give them a room even if I had one. For I was convinced, that the most unexpected things happen in my inn. I could envision someone starting a fight and the noise frightening the couple and baby. I could envision some of my customers getting drunk and carrying on. I could envision all sorts of things happening to them.
It is true that the barn smelled, yet it was also true that my inn smelled. Not of the sweet smell of hay and straw, but the smell of men and women getting sick from too much wine and food. The smell of smoke and sweat of dancing. I reasoned that the barn would be warmer with the presence of the animals and that my son would be there during the night to take care of the manure, and spread fresh smelling straw for the animals. My worst visions were true. for that very night, there was a fire in one of the rooms and it quickly spread, but only to 3 rooms. It was put out quickly.
But the smoke really messed up the living quarters with its heavy wet odor. And besides that, the police came after a fight broke out and carted three men off to the pocky. On top of the fire, and the fight, 3 of my cleaning women quit because of the mess. What a night!!! After thing shad quieted down in the inn, I went out to the barn to check on the couple. Out there it was quiet----a pleasant odor of sweet hay and straw greeted my nostrils as I entered the barn. A refreshing change from the stench of the inn. The couple were wrapping their new born baby boy in swaddling clothes. And the young mother was nursing him.
My Son was there, and I could tell he had done a good job of caring for the place. Two women were also there who had assisted the young mother in bearing the child. The quietness of the scene and the calm joy of everyone present told me, I had done the right and human thing by having them stay in this warm barn. I went back to the inn, and asked my wife to come out to the barn. All the way she scolded me for having put the couple there, but when she saw them in that warmly lit stable with the smells of sweet hay, she knew---- and she took my hand, and then I knew that she understood. I said to my wife when we got back to the inn, God moves people in mysterious ways to do the right and human thing at the right time.
By Tim ,Jim, & Jeanne Zingale
A psychiatrist going through he wards of a state asylum was intrigued by a patient who sat huddled in a corner all by himself, scratching for hours on end.
"My good man," the doctor said to the patient, "Why do you stay huddled in a corner all by yourself, scratching?"
"Because," said the man, I'm the only person who knows where I itch."
We are reminded once again in this holy season that there is Someone who knows where we itch, and Someone who cares.
If our greatest need had been information,
God would have sent us an educator;
If our greatest need had been technology,
God would have sent us a scientist;
If our greatest need had been money,
God would have sent us an economist;
If our greatest need had been pleasure,
God would have sent us an entertainer;
But our greatest need was forgiveness,
so God sent us a Savior.
Today's Thought: There is Always the Danger of Keeping Christmas and Losing Christ!
Back in the early 1700s, when the United States were the Colonies, the settlers in Williamsburg, capital of Colonial Virginia, celebrated Christmas with customs they had brought from England. There was no Santa Claus (a Dutch tradition), no Christmas trees (a German tradition), no Nativity cr che (an Italian tradition), and no chimney stockings (an American tradition).
Christmas in Colonial Williamsburg was primarily a holy day, but the atmosphere was not solemn. Churches and homes were decorated with greens, while candles burned in all the windows to welcome carolers.
There was a public celebration, too. Musicians played special concerts, and fireworks and cannon were exploded to heighten the general merriment. Feasting was in order with dishes of roasted f owl and hare, narrow pudding, ham, oysters, sausage, shellfish, often capped by whole roast boar on a platter. Some gifts were given then as part of the Christmas celebration, but not nearly on the present day scale.
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it: overspending; the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma; the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears.
It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids--all kids--and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition---one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there.
You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.
Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.
(From our loved ones in heaven)
I see the countless Christmas trees
around the world below,
with tiny lights, like Heaven's stars
reflecting on the snow.
The sight is so spectacular,
please wipe away that tear,
because I'm spending Christmas day
with Jesus Christ this year.
I hear the many Christmas songs
that people hold so dear,
but the sounds of music can't compare
with the Christmas choir up here.
I have no words to tell the joy
their beautiful voices bring,
it is beyond description
to hear the Angels sing.
I know how much you miss me,
I see the pain inside your heart,
but it's only for a little while
that we will be apart.
I'll ask Him to light your spirit
as I tell Him of your love,
So please pray for one another
as you lift your eyes above.
I can't tell you of the splendor
or the peace here in this place,
Can you just imagine Christmas
with our Savior face to face?
Please let your hearts be joyful
and let your spirit sing,
I'm spending Christmas in Heaven
and I'm walking with the King.
-Author Unknown