Don’t Believe in Santa Claus.. Read this Inspiring Story that I found

I wanted to share with all of you this most awesome story and hope that for those of you that don’t believe in Santa Claus… Santa does exist.  Teach children the meaning of Christmas and what Santa really does and Santa will live on forever… in our thoughts and in our hearts. Each of us has it in us… however not everyone acts. Give, Love and Believe!
The story starts out with …I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted….”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.”

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa’s helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.”

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were — ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share,

HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care…

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!


Hopelessness does not come from God

Our sinfulness often leads to dismal situations and feelings of despair. But we must always remember that hopelessness does not come from God. God is the author of hope. Even the Exile, with its seeming hopelessness, was part of God’s long-range plan for his people. And his plans were good.

If you are facing hopelessness, you may be inheriting the results of some other person’s sinful decisions and actions. Or you may be reaping your own bad rewards. You may not have really discovered the hope that is found in God’s love for you through Jesus Christ.

Reject despair and seek out God’s plan—and his hopes—for you.

Don’t be afraid to talk to someone if you are feeling hopeless. There are many who can help. Or you can contact me and I would be glad to talk with you. I work with many who are hopeless, depressed, angry, lost and feeling unloved through a non profit organization that blessed my life when I needed help.

Hopelessness could also be a form of depression. There are non medical treatments that can help you as well.

Never think you are alone…. God is always with you, even when you can’t feel Him or hear Him. And God has helpers, in places you would least expect.

In James 1:3

We are told “For when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.” 

I live by this daily. Be blessed and know you are not alone. There are many that suffer and few that reach out for help. If you need help, please reach out and allow someone to help you in your time of need.