A little house at Christmas

There was a home on a quiet street in a little town. It was especially homey during the cold winter months, when the little family that lived there was especially joyful. Excitement seemed to spring from their step and a song was ever on their lips. Stockings were hung above the glowing fireplace. The arm chair standing between the fire and the Christmas tree held a red knit blanket to keep warm the readers that often sat in it. The baskets by the chair were overfilled with books. Curious George and Dr. Suess. The Story Book Bible -the current favorite of the little girl who relentlessly requested the telling and retelling of the Christmas story. She sat on the big chair and quietly murmured as she fliped through the pages pointing to and naming the camels and wise men. The tree stood sparkling, though a bit more droopy now from little hands constantly tugging at its branches and breaking its ornaments. Snow fell that morning, covering the rooftops of the little town with a fluffy white blanket. Excited little noses were pressed against the windows watching the neighborhood kids build snowmen. Music filled the room, hymns of praise to the God Child born in a manger. Smells of fresh pine, coffee and baking cookies mingled with the warmth in the little family’s hearts. To them, it was a warmth that was kindled by a love for Jesus. The One who stripped Himself of glory to come and dwell with mankind. It was a reality they celebrated all year round. But especially, in the winter.

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