C is for: Christ, Christ was Love

H is for: Happy or Happiness

R is for:  Remember the troubles that have passed away

but never forget the blessings that come each day.

I  is for: Instrument to help others.

S is for:  Submission, Sin being removed.

T is for: Trust, total trust and thankfulness.

M is for: Merry, because you remember what Christmas is about.

A is for: Acceptance of what Christ did for you and me.

S is for: Savior and Salvation.

This is what Christ is all about!

Note: Here are some story’s that were shared that were found on the internet.

CHRISTMAS LOVE

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I had cut back on nonessential obligations: extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet I still found myself exhausted, unable to fully appreciate the precious family moments, and, of course, the true meaning of Christmas. My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six-year-old. For weeks, he’d been memorizing songs for his school’s Winter Pageant. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher who assured me there would be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early and found a seat in the cafeteria. Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then each group, one by one, rose to perform their song. Because the public school system had stopped referring to the holiday as “Christmas” I didn’t expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment: songs about reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes, and good cheer. So when my son’s class rose to sing “Christmas Love” I was slightly taken back by its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, who were adorned in fuzzy mittens and red sweaters, with bright stocking caps on their heads. Those in the front row, center stage, held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song. As the class would sing “C is for Christmas” a child would hold up the letter “C.” Then, “H is for Happy,” and on and on, until each child holding his portion had presented the complete message, “Christmas Love.” The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly we noticed her: a small, quiet girl in the front row holding the letter “M” upside down. She was unaware that reversed, her letter “M” appeared as a “W.” The audience of first- through sixth-graders snickered at this little one’s mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, and she stood tall, proudly holding her “W.” Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came over the audience, and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos there was a purpose for our festivities. When the last letter was held high, the message read clear:

“CHRISTWAS LOVE” (“CHRIST WAS LOVE”)

And I believe He still is. — Author Unknown

ACCEPTANCE THROUGH CHILDREN’S EYES

Too often we look at the outward appearance of someone and don’t even give them a second glance. If only we could see people through children’s eyes. We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking.

Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, ‘Hi.’ He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. ‘Hi there baby! Hi there, big boy. I see ya buster,’ the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks, ‘What do we do?’ Erik continued to laugh and answer, ‘Hi.’ Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.

The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, ‘Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.’ Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My Husband and I were embarrassed.  We ate in silence, all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.The old man sat poised between me and the door. ‘Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,’ I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s ‘pick-me-up’ position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby showed their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labour, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, ‘You take care of this baby.’ Somehow I managed, ‘I will,’ from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, ‘God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.’

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, ‘My God, my God, forgive me.’ I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, ‘Are you willing to share your son for a moment?’ when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, ‘To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.’ Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow human being that identifies who you are.

Here’s a poem sent to Dear Abby from a couple who have too much stuff.

So many of you asked us (since Christmas is drawing near)
“What do you want for Christmas? What can we give you this year?
If we say, “We want nothing!” you buy something anyway,
so here’s a list of what we’d like; believe now what we say:
Pajamas for a little child, food to feed the poor.
Blankets for a shelter and we ask a little bit more—
Perform good deeds and let us know, or volunteer your time.
These last are worth a fortune, and they needn’t cost a dime.
We have too many things now, vases, candles, tapes and clocks. We have our fill of garments, ties, underwear and socks. Candy is too fattening, crossword books we’ve more than 20. We don’t need trays or plates or cups, and knickknacks we have plenty. We’ve no walls to hang more pictures; we have books we’ve not yet read;
So please take what you’d spend on us and help the poor instead! Just send a Christmas card to us and tell us what you’ve done; We’ll open them on Christmas Eve, and read them one by one.
It won’t cost as much for postage as a package sent would do,
You’ll need no wrapping paper, ribbons, ink or glue.
And we’ll thank God you listened to what we had to say,
So we could be the instruments to help someone this way.