The missing 5 pound note

Chippenham George worked for the Post Office and his job was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses.  One day just before Christmas, a letter landed on his desk simply addressed in shaky handwriting: 'To God'.  With no other clue on the envelope, George opened the letter and read:

Dear God,

I am an 93 year old widow living on the State pension.  Yesterday someone stole my purse.  It had £100 in it, which was all the money I had in the world and no pension due until after Christmas.  Next week is Christmas and I had invited two of my friends over for Christmas lunch.  Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with.  I have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope.  God; can you please help me?

Chippenham George was really touched, and being kind hearted, he put a copy of the letter up on the staff notice board at the main Fareham sorting office where he worked.  The letter touched the other postmen and they all dug into their pockets and had a whip round.  Between them they raised £95.  [$170 USD] Using an officially franked Post Office envelope, they sent the cash on to the old lady, and for the rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of the nice thing they had done.

Christmas came and went.  A few days later, another letter simply addressed to 'God' landed in the Sorting Office.  Many of the postmen gathered around while George opened the letter.  It read,

Dear God, Christmas Stories

How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your generosity, I was able to provide a lovely luncheon for my friends.  We had a very nice day, and I told my friends of your wonderful gift - in fact we haven't gotten over it and even Father John, our parish priest, is beside himself with joy.  By the way, there was £5 [$10 USD] missing.  I think it must have been those thieving fellows at the Post Office.

George could not help musing on Oscar Wilde's quote: 'A good deed never goes unpunished'

1st February 2015

Today is the 1st day of the new month.  Its another 7 days to my birthday. My New Year resolution is Happiness.  Have I been Happy the last 31 days?  I am asking myself this question time and time again.  I would say YES and NO.  There were time of Happiness and also times of sadness.  When in sadness I can feel someone lifting me and assuring me all is going to be fine.  Just like that little by little the heaviness in my heart left like the mist of the morning.

Have lovely and a blessed day.

The ill tempered Snowman

It was dawn on an icy-cold Christmas morning. The sun was emerging from over the horizon and standing on the top of a hill was the snowman. He had been there for about three weeks and was looking the worse for wear.

There was a stick underneath his arm. If he had originally had a hat and scarf, it had long since been stolen. One of the stones that had been his eyes had fallen off, so he only had one eye.

The carrot that was placed in the middle of his face to represent his nose was now rotten and had become black and shrivelled, and the small stick that was his mouth had slipped down slightly at one end, so that his mouth was crooked – he was not a pretty sight!

And he was cold! Oh was he cold! The wind at the top of the hill was relentless and he had almost become solid ice! He gazed straight forward with his one eye and watched as the sun rose a little higher in the sky. “That looks as though it might be warm”, he thought to himself. The large red golden ball did indeed look as though it might be warm. “I think I’ll just go a little nearer and see if it is!”

He carefully picked up one foot and shook away the loose snow. Then he did the same with the other and clumsily began to walk down the hill, clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump.

As he made his way down the hill, the snowman noticed an old woman gathering sticks for her fire. She was wearing a big red woollen shawl. “Ooh! That looks warm”, he thought. He went over to the old lady and said, “Give me that shawl!” “I will not!” replied the old lady. “I made this for myself many years ago to keep me warm on a cold day like today!”

“Cold?… Cold? You don’t know the meaning of the word!” said the snowman. “Do YOU have a pillar of solid ice running down the centre of YOUR body?” “No, I haven’t” said the old lady. “Well I DO!” responded the snowman, nastily. “So give me that shawl, or I’ll hit you on the head with my stick!”

Well the old lady didn’t want to be hit on the head, so reluctantly, she handed the shawl to the snowman. And without so much as a ”Please may I?” or even the hint of a “Thank you very much!” the snowman took the shawl and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders. With that, he set off once again down the hill, Clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety, clump. Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady.

A little further down the hill, the snowman came upon a young boy who was making snowballs and throwing them at a tree. The snowman noticed that the boy was wearing a pair of bright red woollen gloves. “Ooh! They look warm!” thought the snowman. “Give me those gloves!” he demanded. “I will not!” the boy replied, “My mother knitted them for me. They keep my hands warm on a cold day!” “Cold?…Cold? What do you know about cold? Bellowed the snowman. Are YOU covered with snow from head to foot?” “No”, said the boy “I’m not”. “Well I AM! The snowman shouted back. “And if you don’t give me your gloves right now, I’ll hit you on the head with my stick!”

Well the boy didn’t want to be hit on the head so he reluctantly took off his gloves and handed them to the snowman. And without so much as a “Please may I?” or even the hint of a “Thank you very much!” the snowman took the gloves and put them on his hands. He drew the old lady’s shawl more tightly around his shoulders and set off again down the hill, with a clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump! Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady and the young boy.

When he got nearer the foot of the hill, he noticed an old farmer sitting on a bench, tying up his bootlace. The farmer was wearing a bright red woolly hat. “Ooh! That looks warm”, thought the snowman, when he saw the woolly hat. “Give me that woolly hat!” he demanded of the farmer. “I will not!” answered the farmer. “My wife knitted it for me to keep my head warm on a cold day!” “Cold? ….Cold? What do YOU know about cold?” the snowman angrily replied. Do icicles drip from the end of YOUR nose?” “No” said the farmer, “They don’t”. “Well they DO from mine!” said the snowman, “And if you don’t give me your hat, I will hit you on the head with my stick!”

Well the farmer didn’t want to be hit on the head and so he also handed over his warm, woolly hat. And without so much as a “Please may I?” or even the hint of a “Thank you very much!” the snowman pulled the hat down over where his ears would have been (if he’d had any!), pulled his gloves further onto his hands, wrapped the shawl even tighter around his shoulders and continued to the bottom of the hill, with a clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump! Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady, the young boy and the old farmer.

When he arrived at the foot of the hill, the snowman saw a village. At the edge of the village was the schoolhouse and standing in the doorway of the schoolhouse was the schoolmaster – wearing a pair of bright red velvet slippers!

“Ooh! They look warm!” thought the snowman. He clumped up to the schoolmaster and rudely demanded, “Give me those slippers!” “Certainly!” replied the schoolmaster, But if take them off here I’ll get my feet wet. Why don’t you come inside where it’s warm?” The snowman went into the schoolhouse and the schoolmaster led him into his living quarters. There was a big fire burning in the grate. “Now then”, said the schoolmaster, pulling a chair towards the fire, “Why don’t you sit here and warm your feet while I go and take my slippers off.” The snowman sat in the chair and the schoolmaster pushed him even closer to the fire and left the room.

By this time, the old lady, the young boy and the old farmer had arrived outside the schoolhouse and were peering in through the window.

The schoolmaster returned and said to the snowman, “I’ll give you my slippers shortly but I was just about to make some hot soup, I’ll bring you some,” He pushed the chair even closer to the fire and then noticed the old lady and her companions looking in though the window. “Come in” he said to them, you look colder than the snowman, would you like some soup?”

The three came in. They looked over towards the fireplace. All they could see was a chair and on the floor beneath the chair, a very wet shawl, a wet pair of gloves and a wet woolly hat, all floating in a great pool of water! The schoolmaster picked up the wet clothing, wrung out the water and placed the items on a clothes-horse. “There”, he said, “We’ll hang them here to dry”. He picked up a mop and mopped up the water that had been the snowman. There was also a small, black stone and a piece of stick, which he threw on to the fire. The larger stick he used to poke the fire.

“That’s the snowman sorted”, said the schoolmaster. “Serves him right! Now who’s for soup?”wman sorted”, said the schoolmaster. “Serves him right! Now who’s for soup?”

The Little Match Girl

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.

"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

Mama's Christmas Miracle

Mama told me a story a long long time ago not like any that I'd ever heard,

all about a little girl mama used to know, how I remember every word.

Seems like a lifetime ago, though I remember it so well,it was a Christmas eve I'll never forget as far as I can tell.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, it was only my mother and me,

I was dreaming of Christmas morning and all the presents under the tree.

Dad wasn't doing that well and money was scarce that year,

Mama found a way of telling me without me shedding one tear.

She told me a story of a little girl and a Christmas long ago,

who came from far away, a place where it rarely snowed.

Santa was just a dream to her, but she believed so much inside,

that Christmas was going to be special, so she knelt by her bed and she cried.

"Lord let Santa remember me if not just this one time, I promise I won't ask for much, maybe a dolly I can call all mine."

She closed her prayer and thanked the Lord for all that she received,

she knew that Santa would really come if only she believed.

She wrote a letter to Santa unfamiliar to most girls and boys,

Though her list was long and full, on it there were no toys.

Only things we take for granted, like new shoes or underpants,

hair bows for her sisters and gloves to warm her brother's hands.

At the bottom of her list she asked if it not be to much, for a brand new baby doll she could hold and love and touch.

Then Christmas morning came and she looked beneath her tree,

Not a present to be found as far as she could see.

She didn't give up hope as she heard a knocking sound,

When she opened up her door a great big box she found.

She called out to her mother and dad, brothers and sisters too,

She said "my prayers were answered, there's something in here for all of you."

Her daddy got brand new boots, her mother new underpants, her sisters got beautiful hair bows, her brothers warm gloves for their hands.

Buried deep beneath the box was a brand new baby doll and a note that said Merry Christmas I love you one and all.

I'll never forget that story because much to my surprise,

I saw the true meaning of Christmas shining in my mother's eyes.

For those of you who are wondering, as if you didn't know,

The little girl in Mama's story was my mother long ago.

This poem is about a childhood memory I will never forget. God bless all the mothers in this world and may all your Christmases be ones to remember.

A Child's Letter To Santa Claus

Snowflakes softly falling, upon your window they play.

Your blanket is snug around you, into sleep you drift away.

I bend to gently kiss you, when I see that on the floor,

There's a letter neatly written, I wonder whom it's for.

I quietly unfold it, making sure you're still asleep.

It's a Christmas list for Santa; one my heart will always keep.

It started just as always, with the toys seen on TV,

A new watch for your father and a winter coat for me.

But as my eyes read on, I could see that deep inside,

There were many things you wished for, that your loving heart would hide.

You asked if your friend Molly could have another Dad.

It seems her father hits her, and it makes you very sad.

Then you asked dear Santa, if the neighbor down the street,

Could find a job that he might have some food, and clothes, and heat.

You saw a family on the news, whose house had blown away.

"Dear Santa, send them just one thing, a place where they can stay."

"And Santa, those four cookies, that I left you for a treat,

Could you take them to the children, who have nothing else to eat?"

"Do you know that little bear I have, the one I love so dear?

I'm leaving it for you to take to Africa this year".

"And as you fly your reindeer, on this night of Jesus' birth,

Could your magic bring to everyone, goodwill and peace on earth?"

"There's one last thing before you go, so grateful I would be,

If you'd smile at Baby Jesus, in the manger by our tree."

I pulled the letter close to me, I felt it melt my heart.

Those tiny hands had written what no other could impart.

"And a little child shall lead them," was whispered in my ear,

As I watched you sleep on Christmas Eve, while Santa Claus was here.

The Night A Homeless Man Changed My Life

It was a chilly winter night in December of 1991 and time for our annual trip to Christmas in the Park. This year we had our first, new baby girl, to share the sights and sounds with and were looking forward to sharing it with her. I had worked retail for many years, so to me the holidays did not mean much except extra work… put the decorations up for this holiday, take them down and redecorate for the next. In addition, anyone who has worked retail can tell you about not only the hustle and bustle with customers and stocking shelves (in my case setting up our floral department and keeping it fresh), but about the extra long hours that come with the job or late hours. For this reason, I dreaded them and they seemed like any other day.

This particular year though, somehow things would be changing about my view of Christmas and little did I know that our traditional visit to Christmas in the Park would turn out to be a reminder of what the season truly means.

After bundling everyone up and packing the diaper bag and stroller in the car, I made sure the camera was full to take lots of pictures to remember our daughter's first Christmas. The Bay Area is notorious for traffic in the evenings, but this night it was fairly light and before we knew it we were in the streets of downtown San Jose. We had opted to park in the Local 428 lot, which was next to the Union office and one of the fancy hotels downtown.

It was a wonderful night with my daughter getting her picture taken on Santa's lap, eating warm Churros and strolling through the walkways filled with animated scenes. I was very much there, but as the evening winded down, my mind was beginning to wander about work the next day. We listened to the music, the children laughing and watched our own daughter's eyes light up every time she saw the lights on a tree or watched one of the musical moving scenes.

We came to the Nativity scene, which I always take a few extra minutes to enjoy and say a little prayer in my head giving thanks for the miracle of the season and we all just stood there for a while. No sooner did we leave; it was the end of our tour and time to get back in the car and head home. To avoid the normal traffic of getting on the freeway, I drove through the streets between 7th and 11th. There are really beautiful old homes out there in some of the area, so we might have even got to see some house lights.

As I turned onto a street near a college bookstore, I saw a homeless man walking on the street. I do not know what happened in those moments, because all I remember was thinking I had an extra blanket I always carried in the car and it was extremely cold outside. Suddenly I pulled my 89 Ford Escort over to the side of the street and my husband at the time (now my ex) had asked, "What are you doing". It had to be evident I was pulling the car over so I replied, "pulling the car over. I have a blanket in the back."

He looked at me as if I was crazy and was really getting out of the car to take the homeless man a blanket? Yes, I was and I got out, opened the hatchback and I pulled out my "extra", not being used, clean blanket and slowly walked toward the homeless man. As I cautiously approached him, he just kept pushing his shopping cart filled with what few belongings he had.

"Excuse me... hello", I called out to him.

He kept walking and I followed and tried to call him again.

"Excuse me, Mr.", I called out and he finally turned around.

For some reason I was no longer nervous and I remember looking into to his eyes when he said, "you talking to me?" He was unkempt and his skin looked leathered, as if he had been in the sun all of his life. As I took a few steps closer, I saw his basket filled with a piece of cardboard, some clothes with holes and few dirty blankets. Nonetheless, I just had a gut feeling he was suppose to get this blanket tonight and I was the one who was going to give it to him.

I put the blanket across both my arms and reached it out to him. "Here this is for you," I said.

"But I already have some blankets", he said.

"This is a clean blanket, it is for you, and I want you to have it."

"For me?" he asked.

"For you, for Christmas", it blurted out of my mouth and I warmly smiled.

"You're giving this to me for Christmas", he asked?

"Yes, this is for you", I replied and reached it out even further.

When he took the blanket from my hands, I felt the touch of his hands on mine and he looked up and said kindly, "thank you". Again I looked at him with a smile and I said Merry Christmas. He replied, "Merry Christmas and God bless you."

As I got ready to turn away, I answered back "God bless you too."

Then, I began walking back to my car and I climbed in. Just before we were ready to go I had looked back at him through my rear view mirror. In the reflection, I saw the homeless man, standing there alone, in the cold, on the street and he was holding the blanket I had just given him across his arms, just as I had presented it to him, up to the sky. He was praying, and I looked out the window, back at him, seeing a sky filled with stars, and watched him give thanks to the Lord. I got a tear in my eye and suddenly, the true spirit of Christmas filled my heart and soul. "This is what Christmas is truly about" I said silently to myself as I gently cried.

That very evening, that very moment, I had yearned for all my life, when I would feel the true spirit of Christmas had just touched me and overflowed into my soul. In giving that night, I received the greatest gift and those memories still live on in my heart today. The homeless man had nothing but what he carried in his cart, but he had God and was truly richer than anyone on the outside looking in could see. That night, the homeless man touched my heart and my life in a special way. Every Christmas season, I think of him and that beautiful experience that was a turning point in my life. I still get a tear in my eye every time I remember that night and what I learned from the homeless I gave that blanket to that night.