Take 12 fine, full-grown months.
See that these are thoroughly cleansed from all old memories of bitterness, anger, hate, and jealousy.
Cut these months into 30 or 31 equal parts.
This batch will keep for one year. Do not attempt to make more than one batch at a time …. many people spoil the entire lot in this way.
A Happy New Year is a certainty!
You are intended to be enlarged rather than be diminished. You are not to be driven, you are to be led, and that to ample provision. The grass is not greener on the other side; it is abundantly green on your side. Lie down in the midst of the plenty that you have been missing. Learn how to enjoy every blessing with peace and reassurance. Realize that thirst quenching as well as refreshing waters do await your arrival.
Increase awaits you in 2011!
There is a place of observation within you that sits in an eternal, timeless, perspective. This place is a gift given so that you might come to know that everything is suitable to its season, and made appropriate in its time. Eternity is in your heart; without it you could never discover your intended purpose and work, or the way all things serve an ultimate purpose. Honor that eternal perspective, and it honors you.
Make the most of the rest of 2010, soon it will end! Then the most marvelous thing occurs we get 365 new days to perform our art and perfect our lives!
‘Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the house nothing would fit me, not even a blouse. The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste, all the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales, there arose such a number! When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber). I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared; The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rare… The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese and the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.” As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt and prepared once again to battle the dirt… I said to myself, as I only can “You can’t spend a winter dressed like a man!” So…away with the last of the sour cream dip, Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip. Every last bit of food that I like must be banished ‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.’
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick; I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick. I won’t have hot biscuits, or cornbread, or pie, I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry. I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore… But isn’t that what January is for? Unable to giggle, no longer a riot Happy New Years to All and to All a Good Diet!
Happy Christmas and what have you done this year to make the world a better place? What are your plans to improve the world in the New Year? Share your plans with us.
If you woke up this morning
with more health than illness,
you are more blessed than the
million who won’t survive the week.
If you have never experienced
the danger of battle,
the loneliness of imprisonment,
the agony of torture or
the pangs of starvation,
you are ahead of 20 million people
around the world.
If you attend a church meeting
without fear of harassment,
arrest, torture, or death,
you are more blessed than almost
three billion people in the world.
If you have food in your refrigerator,
clothes on your back, a roof over
your head and a place to sleep,
you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank,
in your wallet, and spare change
in a dish someplace, you are among
the top 8% of the world’s wealthy.
If your parents are still married and alive,
you are very rare,
especially in the United States.
If you hold up your head with a smile
on your face and are truly thankful,
you are blessed because the majority can,
but most do not.
If you can hold someone’s hand, hug them
or even touch them on the shoulder,
you are blessed because you can
offer God’s healing touch.
If you can read this message,
you are more blessed than over
two billion people in the world
that cannot read anything at all.
You are so blessed in ways
you may never even know.
If you are feeling blessed, repay the blessings bestowed unto you and do something for others.
A blessing cannot be kept. If it stops with you, then the blessing will disappear. The blessing will only keep working if it is continuously passed around. If you are a recipient of a blessing, keep the blessings working by being the source of blessing to other people.
A man named Robert L. May, depressed and brokenhearted,
stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling
December night.
His 4-year-old daughter Barbara sat on his lap quietly
sobbing.
Bobs wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer.
Little Barbara couldn’t understand why her mommy
could never come home. Barbara looked up into her
dad’s eyes and asked, “Why isn’t Mommy just like
everybody else’s Mommy?”
Bob’s jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears.
Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger.
It had been the story of Bob’s life. Life always had to
be different for Bob.
Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by
other boys.
He was too little at the time to compete in sports.
He was often called names he’d rather not remember.
From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed
to fit in.
Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and
was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery
Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed
with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn’s bout
with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob
and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room
apartment in the Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days
before Christmas in 1938.
Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he
couldn’t even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he
couldn’t buy a gift, he was determined a make one – a
storybook!
Bob had created an animal character in his own mind
and told the animal’s story to little Barbara to give her
comfort and hope.
Again and again, Bob told the story, embellishing it
more with each telling.
Who was the character? What was the story all about?
The story Bob May created was his own autobiography
in fable form. The character he created was a misfit
outcast like he was.
The name of the character? A little reindeer named
Rudolph, with a big shiny nose.
Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little
girl on Christmas Day.
But the story doesn’t end there.
The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught
wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a
nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book.
Wards went on to print, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed
Reindeer” and distribute it to children visiting Santa
Claus in their stores.
By 1946, Wards had printed and distributed more than
six million copies of Rudolph.
That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase
the rights from Wards to print an updated version of
the book.
In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of
Wards returned all rights back to Bob May.
The book became a best seller.
Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May,
now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy
from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter.
But the story doesn’t end there either.
Bob’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song
adaptation to Rudolph.
Though the song was turned down by such popular
vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore , it was
recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry.
“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was released in
1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more
records than any other Christmas song, with the
exception of “White Christmas.”
The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter
so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again
and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like
his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn’t so
bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.
* MERRY CHRISTMAS 2010*
LUNAR ECLIPSE: For the first time in many years, northern winter is beginning with a total lunar eclipse. On Dec. 21, 2010, the date of the northern winter solstice, the full Moon will pass through Earth’s shadow, turning the lunar orb a delightful shade of coppery-red. Sky watchers in North America are favored with an overhead view as the eclipse unfolds on Tuesday morning between 02:41 am and 03:53 am EST.
The lunar eclipse of Dec. 21st falls on the same date as the northern winter solstice. Is this rare? It is indeed, according to Geoff Chester of the US Naval Observatory, who inspected a list of eclipses going back 2000 years. “Since Year 1, I can only find one previous instance of an eclipse matching the same calendar date as the solstice, and that is Dec. 21, 1638,” says Chester. “Fortunately we won’t have to wait 372 years for the next one…that will be on Dec. 21, 2094.”
By Krista Ogren
To me Christmas is magic, the warmest time of year, we all get a little closer, we hold each other dear;
Some say Christmas is for children, when they’ve reached a ripe old age, they’ve forgotten Christmas magic, it can wonder and amaze
Remember when Frosty melted, and that magician stole his hat, oh how we cried and cried for him, til Santa brought him back
And Rudolph was a misfit, who hid his nose away, Til Cornelius caught the bumble, and Rudolph led the sleigh
The Ghost of Christmas yet to come froze us where we stood, but Ebenezer woke that day, and we knew that he was good.
Mr. Potter stole the money, George Bailey wished his life was gone, but Clarence came to help him, Zuzu’s petals came along
Santa’s head got stuffy, he thought he was alone, but then it snowed in Southtown, and Vixen made it home
Charlie Browns tiny Christmas tree was a scrawny little stick, then Linus gave his awesome speech, now that’s the tree we pick
And what about the drummer boy? He had no gifts to bring, so he came and played with all he had in honor of our King
Yes Virginia there is a Santa Clause, Susan Walker thinks so too, Emmet Otter’s got his jugband, and Hanky’s a Christmas poo
Christmas Magic is memory, made new for just awhile, and when we relive the magic, we each become a child.
This Story is based on a True Story from the front lines of World War I that I’ve heard many times. Ian Calhoun, a Scot, was the commanding officer of the British forces involved in the story. He was subsequently court-martialed for ‘consorting with the enemy’ and sentenced to death. Only George V spared him from that fate. — by John McCutcheon
My name is Francis Toliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here,
I fought for King and country I love dear.
‘Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung.
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.
I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground,
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound.
Says I, “Now listen up, me boys!” each soldier strained to hear,
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
“He’s singing bloody well, you know!” my partner says to me.
Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony.
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent,
“God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” struck up some lads from Kent.
The next they sang was “Stille Nacht,” “‘Tis ‘Silent Night,'” says I,
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.
“There’s someone coming towards us!” the front line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright,
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.
Then one by one on either side walked into No Man’s Land,
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand.
We shared some secret brandy and wished each other well,
And in a flare lit soccer game we gave ’em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home.
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own.
Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin,
This curious and unlikely band of men.
Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more.
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war.
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night:
“Whose family have I fixed within my sights?”
‘Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung.
For the walls they’d kept between us to exact the work of war,
Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore.
My name is Francis Toliver, in Liverpool I dwell,
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lessons well,
That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we’re the same.
I thought this was so funny I just had to share it with you.
Little Carol came into the kitchen where her mother was making
dinner.
Her birthday was coming up and she thought this was a good time
to tell her mother what she wanted. ‘Mom, I want a bike for my
birthday.’
Now, Little Carol was a bit of a troublemaker. She had gotten
into trouble at school and at home.. Carol’s mother asked her if she
thought she deserved to get a bike for her birthday. Little Carol, of
course, thought she did.
Carol’s mother, being a Christian woman, wanted her to reflect
on her behavior over the last year, and write a letter to God and tell
him why she deserved a bike for her birthday. Little Carol stomped up
the steps to her room and sat down to write God a letter.
________________________________
LETTER 1:
Dear God:
I have been a very good girl this year and I would like a bike
for my birthday. I want a red one. Your friend, Carol
Carol knew this wasn’t true. She had not been a very good girl
this year, so she tore up the letter and started over.
________________________________
LETTER 2:
Dear God:
This is your friend Carol. I have been a pretty good girl this
year, and I would like a red bike for my birthday..
Thank you, Carol
Carol knew this wasn’t true either. She tore up the letter and
started again.
________________________________
LETTER 3:
Dear God:
I know I haven’t been a good girl this year. I am very sorry.
I will be a good girl if you just send me a red bike for my birthday.
Thank you, Carol
Carol knew, even if it was true, this letter was not going to
get her a bike. By now, she was very upset. She went downstairs and
told her mother she wanted to go to church. Carol’s mother thought her
plan had worked because Carol looked very sad.
‘Just be home in time for dinner,’ her mother said. Carol walked
down the street to the church and up to the altar. She looked around to
see if anyone was there. She picked up a statue of the Virgin Mary,
slipped it under her jacket and ran out of the church, down the street,
into her house, and up to her room. She shut the door and sat down and
wrote her letter to God.
________________________________
LETTER 4:
I GOT YOUR MAMA.
IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, SEND THE BIKE.
Signed, YOU KNOW WHO
Cherokee Billie Spiritual Advisor 
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