The Christmas Miracle

by Debra Ann Elliott
(Birmingham, AL, USA)

Timmy sighed. Stepping back he gave the tree a once over, sparse and tiny this year, not an Oregon Silver Tip he wished for from Christmases long ago when his daddy was alive, but at least his family had a Christmas tree. No ornaments decorated the little tree, only a few strands of blinking lights he had found in the dumpster while searching for food to feed his family.

Blue, red, green, and yellow lights blinked on the tiny tree. Blink, blink, blink. With each blink Timmy felt hope. His mother and siblings would wake up to Christmas this year. He prayed for a miracle. Timmy didn't believe in Santa Clause, so he already knew there would be no presents under the tree. He did believe in God and he knew God sometimes answered prayers.

He prayed for a warm winter coat for his mother. Mama only has a tattered sweater and she coughs all the time Lord...

He prayed for a new dolly for his five year old sister Katie. Katie's dolly has no hair and only one eye Lord...

For his little brother Stevie, Timmy prayed for a miracle. Lord, I am not asking for a toy for Stevie. I am asking for a miracle. Let Stevie walk again. Stevie's only three and he doesn't have a chance at life if he never walks. Thank you Lord.

Timmy didn't ask for anything for himself. At thirteen he didn't think he needed anything. He loved his family so much he wanted them to have a very special Christmas.

Blink, blink, blink.

The lights sparkled on the tree. Timmy watched as the lights blinked.

Blue is for faith, red is for love, green is for blessings and yellow is for trust. Timmy remembered his Sunday School teacher telling him what each color meant.

Blink, blink, blink.

The lights dimmed as Timmy eyes grew heavy with tiredness.

Faith, hope and trust is what he had in God and he knew God would bless his family with a Christmas miracle.

Before falling asleep he checked on mama and his little brother and sister. He made sure they were warm. He place another piece of wood on the fireplace and crawled in bed next to Stevie.

He dreamt of mama's new coat, Katie's new dolly and Stevie's new legs.

Timmy awoken to a loud noise. He looked around the room and didn't see anything, only the lights on the Christmas tree.

Blink, blink, blink.

Blue, red, green, and yellow. Faith, hope and trust blinked steadily. Somehow Timmy knew his prayers would be answered and God would bless his family with a Christmas miracle. He went back to sleep until it would be time for Christmas morning.

Timmy overslept. Katie got up first and ran to wake him up. "Timmy, Timmy. Santa Clause has been here!"

"Huh?" Timmy, still half asleep, didn't understand what his sister said. Santa Clause? He thought she meant he came because of the tree.

He got up and went to put a log on the fire. He smelled something cooking. Is that bacon?

What is going on?

Timmy saw his mama cooking bacon on the hotplate. Where did the bacon come from?

"Merry Christmas Timmy", his mama hugged him.

"Merry Christmas mama. Where did the bacon come from?"

"I don't know. It's a miracle. There is a tree and presents under it too!" Her eyes misted and happy tears fell.

Timmy ran to the tree and sure enough, presents sat under the tiny tree with no ornaments.

Blink, blink, blink.

Blue, red, green, yellow lights glowed brighter this morning.

Mama walked over to Timmy. She looked at him. "Do you know anything about this?"

"No mama, only the tree. I promise."

"It's a miracle."

Timmy reached under the tree for a present.
Katie and Stevie rushed him. Katie ripped open her present. Her doll. Timmy started crying.

"Mama, your next."

Mama carefully opened her present. A winter coat. Mama put it on.

Next came Stevie. Timmy wondered what Stevie had in such a big box. Stevie ripped his present opened too. Braces. Stevie got braces so he can walk again.

Timmy fell to his knees and thanked the Lord.

"Heavenly Father, thank you for the Christmas miracle you gave my family."

Timmy didn't see the last present under the tree.

"Here Timmy", his mama handed him a present.

Timmy carefully opened the present. A book. Treasure Island, his favorite book. Today Timmy believed in Santa Clause.

©2009 Debra Ann Elliott

I Made a Difference and Found the Good Shepherd

by Toni
(Ohio)

About 20 years ago I made a difference in an old run-down county home building in Newark, Ohio. The building, which still stands is four stories tall, built in the 1920’s, large and imposing and has served as a TB sanatorium, county home and is now being used as a community health center. It was here in this old building where I did volunteer work with the elderly, the handicapped and the mentally challenged.

At the time, I was in my middle 30’s, married to a wonderful husband, had no children, was not going to school, did not hold down a job outside of the home-- and I wanted to make a difference. I guess maybe I’ve always wanted to help others but as I’ve grown older, the need to do so has increased. Also, in my lifetime I’ve seen many people—children and adults alike discouraged and treated badly—mostly through physical and mental abuse, and have wanted in a small way to help those who were hurting. At that time, my grandma had just recently died from bone cancer, and there was vacuum that needed filling. It was strange the timing of this activity; but the coincidence of finding these people and then helping them, was perfect. I needed this volunteer work, I think, for comfort and guidance and they needed me for hope and love.

What brought this special kind of volunteer work to me began as a trip to my local YWCA. It was on a warm summer day when I spoke with a woman named Barbara who helped me get started. She was in charge of volunteer work for the elderly and handicapped and I knew when I met her that she would be a blessing. She stood about five foot five; pretty face with classic features and when she spoke it was with dignity and purpose. She told me that they had a particular need for someone very special to work at an old, local county home. She said that not everyone would be interested in the work because these people were considered outcasts, men and women who had been put aside. She asked if I would be interested. Loving a challenge and I agreed to do it. Thus began a three-year stint visiting over 30 people—all ages, situations and so forth—and visiting with them at least once a week. Found out months later that only one other person came to visit these people and she had been in charge of a local children’s home for years. After I talked with her awhile one day, I recalled her name and that her reputation at the children’s home was an excellent one.

I had no idea what I was getting into and looking back, it was good that I didn’t. These homeless people had mental and physical problems that were deep and dark. Some couldn’t comprehend what you were saying to them, others were physically ill---diabetes and so forth and others just wanted to be left alone.
There were a few who were wheel chair bound and they were the ones I tried to spend some extra time with.

There was one man in particular, Richard, who had a skin problem and who, at first, wouldn’t talk with me…He was on the tall side, in his 60’s, somewhat attractive, very shy and hesitant on meeting anyone new. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me. It took months before he would acknowledge me but when he did, it was so worth the wait. Three months later, when he saw me come into a room, his eyes would light up, he’d smile and he was anxious to see if I brought him anything. I often brought gifts—stationery, clothes and personal needs. If I gave him something, he acted like it was Christmas. Then, it got to the point where he would talk with me…. It was wonderful! Years later, before he died we had a long talk and I confided in him that I felt closer to him than I did my own father. He didn’t say much, only smiled and I’ll never forget how wonderful I felt at that moment, loved and special. He was a lonely, quiet man but what a difference he made in my life. Several months later I heard that he died suddenly and a vacuum crept into my heart that has never been filled.

The administration at the county home often made it difficult to visit because they were beaurocratic and small-minded. They didn’t want anyone changing things-outsiders were not welcome but as time went on and they got to know me, they allowed me to do more. Later, I was allowed to take a few of them out to lunch, or to a store or just a drive. These small trips did wonders for their morale—they brightened up and began looking forward to “Toni’s visits.”

As I continued my visits more people of the home died, several women in particular who I had gotten close to. One was Blanche, who was a former alcoholic. She died of cancer and it was a painful death. I did what I could with prayers to comfort her. I feel, with God’s help, I did her some good. Another died of brain cancer and I will never forget her words to me one day when she was trying to get my attention, “Toni, I hope someday you’ll find time to talk with me, too!” To this day, I do whatever I can to be patient and take time for those in need, be it family or friends. She taught me that there’s an end to everyone and everything and that the end of one’s life could be today or 10 years from now and that it’s important to pay attention to people and things that matter. Will never forget her.

Another woman I will never forget was a woman known as “Mae.” She was small in stature, spunky, wrote many Biblical tracts and handed them out to anyone interested and was always hungry and always the first to be in the “chow line.” I learned from her that it’s important to make yourself known, spread the word of God, to enjoy food and be patient. With little Mae, it was vital to be patient with her, for she was a bit trying. But patient I was, at least most of the time. In the end she died of pneumonia but she didn’t die along—which she feared the most. She had people of the home around her and she knew I cared about her. Another one I will never forget.

Working at the county home taught me is that life is short, that it is to be lived—and lived well and that no matter the person—good or bad—physically or mentally ill or well—it’s important to try and do one’s best with what God has given you! These people struggled and ended up in a county home---the last place before one is on the street and they made the most of it. They did well because they had God on their side and they had each other….and they had me for their friend. But, I think I gained the most because of their honesty, pureness of heart and their friendship.

Why did I make these visits, week after week, year after year? Basically, I did this because I love a challenge and I enjoyed visiting with them and sharing life’s stories.

I hate to admit it but I wouldn’t be the successful, caring woman I am today without going through these rare life experiences. Those people opened my eyes to the brevity of life and how important each day, each minute is to all of us. I will never forget them—their fears, hang-ups, loneliness and how God brought me to them and with His help I was able to make life a little bit better for them. Several of them I still keep in contact by mail and by phone. I still send them presents—stamps, stationery, and needed personal items. They never fail to thank me—which is much more than I get from family and friends. They are constantly reminding me through phone calls and letters what is most important in life—being decent with each other, loving God and trusting in Him in all we do.

I’m sharing all of this with you because I want to show how each life impacts on the other. We may not always know how we affect others with our Christian acts, but believe me, those kind acts are noticed and remembered. Our Christian lives remind me so much of that wonderful hymn, “Onward Christian Soldiers.” And when you reflect on those words, aren’t we just that—Christian soldiers?

Blessings to all for a joyful and wonderful Christmas and a bright and hopeful New Year!

The Color of Royalty

by Debra Ann Elliott
(Birmingham, AL, USA)

I watch as he passes by me. Just a man, a man who has been sentenced to death. I stare at this man. I can not help myself. I, like the others are curious. This man called Jesus claims to be the Messiah.

I listen to the whispers as he passes the crowd. "Is he really the Messiah?" "He is crazy." "If he is a king, where is his crown of jewels?" I think the same as the others, but too ashamed to admit my doubts.

He gets closer to his final destination. Someone from the crowd hollers out.

"Where is your crown mighty king? Why do you wear a crown of thorns?"

Jesus did not avert his gaze from the man. He looked into the eyes of my father.

"Sir, my glory is in Heaven with the Father."

My father spat at Jesus. "Where is your robe of royalty? Why are you dressed in rags Messiah?"

Jesus did not have a chance to answer my fathers claim. The Roman guards seize him and proceed to carry him to Golgotha.

I do not want to watch the execution, but my father is a Roman soldier. My father wants
me to become a soldier and tells me this is what Romans do.

I do not want to kill people. I am not like my father. I believe in the Messiah.

Jesus looks at me before the guards place him on the cross. I stare back at the face of peace. I do not see a guilty man. I see the Messiah dressed in his crown of jewels and his purple robes. I see Jesus in the color of royalty. I see Him in His everlasting glory.

Into the Darkness

by Debra Ann Elliott
(Birmingham, AL, USA)

We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true by being in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.

I John 5:20 NIV

Darkened by the surrounding night, I crept along the brick wall. No stars shone in the sky.

No lanterns were lit. I could not see what was in front of me, only feel. The cold, piercing night air whipped around my shoulders, shivering through my whole body.

I pulled my woolen shawl tightly against my chest and continued on my quest. I had heard the rumors circulating at the town well. I, at twelve was curious. I had to see for myself!

Was the so-called Messiah really in the cave? Was He really dead?

I could feel the dirt and gravel give beneath my bare feet. I must be getting closer to the cave. What would I find?

I inched closer and closer into the pitch-black darkness. My heart beat faster in my chest. I reached the cave without incident. I praised my God, nobody had seen me.

I would be severely punished if caught. The Roman guards would molest me or even worse. My father would disown me. I stumbled and fell. I landed on a rock. It was the cave!

The burial cave of Jesus.

I wanted to go inside, but that was impossible. I couldn't move the huge stone that protected the entrance.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I awoke as the sun was coming up in the Eastern sky.

The stone was no longer protecting the cave. No guards in sight, so I entered the cave.

A strange feeling entranced me. I felt peace. I don't know if the Messiah had really been in the cave or the story was only a village rumor, but I went away no longer in the dark.


What is your relationship with Jesus? Are you "afraid" to go into the "cave"?

ARE YOU STILL IN THE DARK?

I John 5:20 tells us Jesus IS the true son of God. He gives us understanding so we may know HIM.

Don't live in the dark.... Let Jesus be your "light".


© 2009 Debra Ann Elliott

Mary Poppins

by Shirl Scott
(Murfreesboro, Tennessee, USA)

“Jump, Shirley Jean! Hurry up!” bellowed my oldest brother Dennis. It was a blistering July summer day and he was totally put out with my hesitations. The lazy days of summer on a farm in Tennessee can be unmerciful. “Come on! How are we going to know, if you do not jump?” he continued.

Standing on top of the old barn with my Mary Poppins umbrella, I glanced up and the sun forced immediate beads of sweat to trickle down the back of my blonde, naturally curly hair.

My Mary Poppins umbrella had been a sudden insight of my brother’s. We had just finished watching, in amazement, as Mary Poppins simply held her umbrella upward towards the heavens and floated off into oblivion. My brother immediately disappeared and following an investigative search of mother’s closet, ran back producing my grandmother’s tattered, discarded church umbrella.

As he lay out the game plan, my fears must have surfaced with a mere flicker of doubt. Dennis Irby was not known for allowing doubt to encounter any life altering adventures. He immediately plummeted into his opening sermon disregarding all the broken wires and holes in the umbrella, denouncing any doubt this mechanism was not the perfect object for this particular experiment.

“I said, hurry up! What is taking you so long? Jump!” he once again yelled. I could see him from the roof of the barn prancing back and forth, flaying his arms up and down like one of the old roosters in the barn yard. He was becoming totally flustered. “Okay, okay, just shut up Dennis Irby. Besides, how do you know this is going to work?” I hollered back.

“Well now it worked for Mary Poppins, didn’t it?? Just hold it up like I showed you and don’t forget to stand like I showed you to! Got it?” he asked. I muttered under my breath, “Yeah, yeah, I got it alright.” Something just didn’t seem kosher, but he was my oldest brother and he was so much smarter than me.

“Yeah, I hear you” I blasted back. “You sure I am going to fly? Why can’t you do it? I asked. “Because you’re smaller than me and you’re a girl. Mary Poppins was a girl, not a boy stupid,” he sneered with curled up lips. “Come on Shirley Jean, I’m hot!?” he implored. “Just jump and get it over with.”

So I did. I jumped right off the top of the tinned roof barn in Henry, Tennessee, with my Mary Poppins make shift umbrella pointing upwards towards the cloudless blue sky. I remember breathing in the fresh warm air. I remember grinning and thinking how proud Dennis would be to see me flying off over the tops of the trees in the pasture. I remember snickering about how jealous he would be that I could actually fly and he could not.

I remember plunging downward closer and closer to the barnyard. I remember the rusty nail breaking through the flesh of my bare foot going all the way through to the other side. But most of all, I remember how my oldest brother came rushing to my side, kneeling down beside me stroking my hair, removing the nail from my bloody foot and lovingly embracing me and praying while carrying me to the house for my mother to care for.

No, I did not fly, but I did jump! In life we all have learned there are many times we either did or did not jump. We have walked away in fear, or we have jumped and smacked the hard cold bottom.

If you jump without your parachute, you will plummet into an abyss. However; you will always successfully fly when you jump with your parachute, the Lord Jesus Christ. King James Bible “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31

So Jump! Don't be afraid. Just make sure you jump with your parachute, not your tattered Mary Poppins make shift umbrella. Jump with Jesus and you will fly!

The Peaceful Shore

by Tricia Miller
(Connersville, Indiana)

The sand was soft and warm between my toes. The warm sunshine was soothing as it hit my wet skin. The deep blue ocean could be seen for miles. What a beautiful sight! As the waves gently pushed the water over my toes, I rested on the peaceful shore! The calmness was so relaxing. I felt completely stress-free. As the warm breeze gently blew through my hair, I knew this was a much needed rest!

I remembered where I had been just a few moments earlier. There I was in the middle of the deep raging ocean. Fierce waves coming at me, no boat, and no shore in sight! I knew somewhere there had to be land. I swung my arms and kicked my feet with all my strength and tried to swim. I was getting nowhere, but tired! I went under a few times but I was determined I was going to get out of that water! I prayed for God to let me make it to the shore. He sent me a raft but I didn't take it.

I don't know why I didn't take the raft. I guess I felt like I could get there faster by my self. I wanted to be the one to control the situation. I knew I'd eventually reach land, so I kept swimming. I swam for days and then months. The Lord kept putting the raft out but I kept saying, " no thanks, I can do it." See, in doing it my way, I could control every detail. I could control how I got to the shore and when.

Somewhere deep down I didn't believe Gods method was the best one. I could hear him saying,"trust me my child, I will never fail you!". I thought I was trusting God just because I believed that there would eventually be land. But I didn't trust him enough to stop swinging my arms! I was afraid he wouldn't catch me and I would drown!

I was getting very weak! My arms and legs were becoming heavy! I was beginning to give up! Suddenly I felt a strong arm wrapped around me. I heard a voice softly whisper,"stop swinging annd kicking...Ive got you my child!". I opened my eyes and there I was swinging and kicking as fast as I could go, and there was no water! How silly I must have looked. But the Lord gently pulled my arms down to my side and said so lovingly,"just rest my child."

As tears ran down my face I poured my heart and troubles out to him. I felt the most amazing peace! It was a peace I had not felt for months! My Saviour had lifted me out of the raging waters and placed me on the peaceful shore! My heavenly Father and me had a long talk there on that little secluded island. He made me understand that he is faithful and that I could trust him with every part of my life!

He would have brought me to the shore sooner had I taken the raft. But sometimes he has to let us find out for ourselves the hard way that he is in control and we can't do anything without him. If we will just stop trying to swim out of the water, he will carry us.

This is not a devotion about swimming. Honestly, I can't swim. Because deep water is something I fear, it was easy for me to use it as an illustration. But this is a devotion about letting go and letting God!

When there are storms raging around us, they don't have to be raging in us! We have to let go of the control. Our Lord knows what he is doing and how he is going to do it, and when! We don't have to waste all our time and strength trying to do something we are not able to do.

Its time to give up! Surrender your will to the Lord. Open your eyes! You are swinging your arms and getting nowhere! God is already holding you. He took you out of the raging waters! Rest in him! Enjoy his peace. Let it cover you!

I had never felt peace in my life before like the day I gave up control of my life to the one who holds the answer in his hand! It was only after I stopped swimming that I fell asleep in his arms! Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God

Thanksgiving

by Lynn Mosher
(Louisville, KY)

Today, I was reminded of a story in the life of Corrie ten Boom. If you’ve never heard of Corrie, she was a young, Dutch Christian living in Holland as she and her family helped the Jews to escape the Nazis in WWII. Hence, the title of one of her books, The Hiding Place.

After being betrayed, they were imprisoned in two other places, one in which their father died, before she and her sister were sent to the notorious concentration camp Ravensbruck near Berlin.

Life in this camp was intolerable. For one thing, their cabin was infested was fleas, which fed on the prisoners by biting them constantly. However, Corrie and Betsie managed to have a daily Bible study with the other women, many of whom came to the Lord.

At first, they were afraid to conduct these meetings, but, each night, they became bolder, as no guard ever entered their cabin, which baffled them.

One night, as they read scripture about praising God for all things, Betsie turned to Corrie and said they were going to praise God for the fleas. Corrie absolutely refused. Betsie insisted and Corrie finally gave in. They all got down on their knees and thanked God for the fleas.

Later, Corrie found a journal of one of the guards that had stood outside their door. He wrote that he would never set foot inside because it was so infested with fleas.

Betsie died while imprisoned. However, when Corrie was released, she found out it had been “a clerical error,” as all the other women her age were killed a week later.

Written to the Ephesians by Paul while imprisoned, he told them, “…making melody with all your heart to the Lord, at all times and for everything giving thanks in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God the Father.” (Eph. 5:19b-20 AMP) To the Thessalonians, he wrote, “No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” (1 Thess. 5:18 NLT)

Just some thoughts to ponder…ask yourself: For what will I give thanks this year? Will I be in God’s will? Will I thank Him just for things, things that can disappear in the blink of any eye? My job, my house, my family, my possessions? Or will I be thankful that God is Who He says He is? Will I be thankful for all He does in my life? Will I be thankful for His grace and mercy, His righteousness and justice, His comfort and peace, His supply and protection?

With all my heart, I pray for each of you to have a very blessed Thanksgiving.