Well hello everyone! This blog contains a couple of heart warming, Christmas storY plus a personal Crhistmas story. 

Here is a Christmas story that brought tears to my eyes. I think if my circumstances had been different, I would have liked to adopt a handful of children. Here’s one child I wish I could have taken home and given him the hugs, kisses, and the “I love yous.”  I found this on a web site and had to post it. This I believe occurred in Russia.


It was nearing the holiday season, 1994, time for our orphans to hear, for the first time, the traditional story of Christmas. We told them about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem. Where they found no room in the inn, and the couple went to a stable. Where the baby Jesus was born, then they placed Him in a manger.

Throughout the story, the children and orphanage staff sat in amazement as they listened. Some sat on the edges of their stools, trying to grasp every word. After completing the story, we gave the children three small pieces of cardboard to make a crude manger. Each child was given a small paper square, which was cut from yellow napkins I had brought with me. No colored paper was available in the city.

Following instructions, the children tore the paper and carefully laid strips in the manger for straw. Small squares of flannel, cut from a worn-out nightgown an American lady was throwing away as she left Russia, were used for the baby’s blanket. A doll-like baby was cut from tan felt we had brought from the U.S.

The orphans were busy assembling their manger as I walked among them to see if they needed any help. All went well until I got to one table where little Misha sat.

He looked to be about six-years-old, and he’d finished his project. As I looked at the little boy’s manger, I was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger. Quickly, I called for the translator to ask the boy why he placed two babies in the manger.

With his arms crossed, he looked at his completed manger scene, and began to repeat the story. After only hearing the Christmas story repeated once, and for such a young boy, named Misha recited the whole Christmas story. He came to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger. Then Misha started to ad-lib.

He made up his own ending to the story as he said,

“… when Maria laid the baby in the manger, Jesus looked at me and asked me if I had a place to stay. I told him I have no mamma, and I have no papa, so I don’t have any place to stay.

Then Jesus told me, I could stay with him. But I told him I couldn’t, because I didn’t have a gift to give him like everybody else did. But I wanted to stay with Jesus so much, so I thought about what I had that maybe I could use for a gift. I thought maybe if I kept him warm, that would be a good gift.

So I asked Jesus, if I keep you warm will that be a good enough gift?’ And Jesus told me, ‘If you keep me warm, get into the manger, and then Jesus looked at me and told me I could stay with him ~ for always.”

As little Misha finished his story, his eyes brimmed full of tears that fell down his little cheeks. He put his hand over his face, his head dropped to the table and his little shoulders shook as he sobbed and sobbed.

The little orphan had found someone who would never abandon nor abuse him, someone who would stay with him ~ for always.

I’ve learned that it’s not what you have in your life, but who you have in your life that counts. “Be joyful always; pray continually; give in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (I Thes. 5:16-18)

What gifts would you bring to the manger?


Here is another Christmas story to remind me to treasure what I receive. My youngest adult daughter one Christmas gave me a picture frame. A non-descript, brown wood frame. However, what was supposed to be in it was a drawn picture of their family. According to her, the picture didn’t turn out right, and she felt she needed to do it over again. Little did she realize I would have cherished this picture just like all the Christmas ornaments each of my children made at various times of their life which I hang with pride every year on our Christmas tree. To me these gifts are like the magi gave to baby Jesus. They are more precious than frankincense and myrrh.


Now the items are a little dilapidated. After all, at least thirty-five to forty years have passed. These ornament traveled with me across the country at six different times as we lived in various states.

Among the ornaments I treasure is the Santa Claus, my son Jon must have hand crocheted now a little worse for wear. There is the clothes pin reindeer now missing the eyes and other items that I so lovingly placed on our tree. My oldest daughter, Sonya needle pointed a candle representing the flame of Jesus’ love.  Then there are the gifts for the tree again received by older mature hands. Another needle point ornament made by my oldest daughter. Christmas decorated balls made by my youngest daughter, Cherie

Each decoration I hang, I do so with care and remember their voices as children. I remember the various squabbles and laugh to myself. “Jon,  might have cried out Sony, punched me.” or Sonya might of said, “Mom, Cherie got into my Barbie Doll stuff,” and then there was “Mommy, Jon and Sonya won’t play with me,” as tears fell from her sad, brown eyes.   I remember the games played at Christmas. Oh those were good times even in the worst times.

A lump forms and a few tears fill my eyes. God gave each of these children as loaners for a short time. I’m thankful He allowed me to have them. I can’t go back, but I do have my memories that no one can erase. They are grown now and each of them is celebrating Christmas in their own way.

You ask do I miss those times and the presence of my young children? Yes, I do. What I’m proud of is they grew up knowing about Jesus. They grew up to become responsible adults who raised my grandchildren. Someday, they too will place those ornaments made by their children’s hands on the Christmas tree and recall their yesterdays.

So, this I say first of thank you God for letting me have three, beautiful children. Thank you Sonya, Jon and Cherie for letting me be your mommy of long ago and now your mother. I love you, all. Disagreements, hurt feelings might exist between us, but no matter what, you are my children, and no one can take this away.

Forty one years ago, a little girl was born and I named her Cherie. She came home in a Christmas stocking. I loved her the minute I set my eyes on her.


May you each, my children have a Merry Christmas. Remember Jesus is the reason for the Season. Now for you my readers and followers, may I ask you to please cherish every moment you have with your children. Cherish the bad times and the good times. 

For those of you who do not understand the Christmas story, Jesus came into this world to seek and save those which were lost. He saved me from self destruction, misery and a lack of forgiveness of myself. May you find Him. John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him might not perish but have ever lasting life.

BELIEVE, He came into this world and ASK Him to come into your life and remove your sins. ACCEPT the gift. TELL someone. FIND a church which preaches the Bible.

Once again Merry Christmas. I’ll post my blog on December 22 on Sunday.  sle





  1. Pingback: It’s time for Christmas story | I sense, therefore I reflect

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