Blog Archives

A Christmas Memory from the ’70s by Jackie Zack

11/26/2016

When I was a teenager my favorite part of high school was art class. In ceramics class, I made a variety of animals that took on a folk, primitive style. I tried to make as many different ones as I could in the limited amount of time. Animals also showed up in paintings, drawings, and weavings.
I loved going to the zoo with my mom and grandparents where I could get inspiration for artwork. The giraffes, monkeys, parrots, and many other favorites were a joy to see. I especially liked the llamas. They were unusual with their long necks and lovely brown fur. They always seemed happy and content.

One Christmas, the zoo had a Christmas walk. It was bitter cold, but my mom and I had to go because it was Christmas at the Zoo. How could we miss that? We bundled up and walked along the pathway. It was too cold for any animals to be out. I remember a few lights and some painted wooden designs. We guessed that the main attraction was to be able to walk the path in winter. But then excitedly, we saw the reason for the event. Around the bend in the path, we glimpsed a Nativity scene with lights shining on it. As we neared the display, we were greatly disappointed. We couldn’t see the baby Jesus. We couldn’t see Mary or Joseph. Nestled under the lights, in front of the manger was my favorite, dark-brown llama, trying to keep warm. We decided he just wanted to keep baby Jesus warm. We smiled at the thought.

Christmas day came! I was so excited! I had a special surprise for my mom and grandmother. When they woke up and looked at our little Nativity, they were surprised to see a handmade ceramic llama right in front of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. My mom and gram broke out in smiles and laughter—a special memory for me since my gram didn’t laugh very often. Hearing her chuckle meant everything to us. Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas filled with lighthearted laughter!

Look for books by Jackie Zack. An Irish Heart, A Chance Mistake, Rafe's Cafe.

Visit Jackie at:
Jackie’s Facebook Page:

Jackie’s Author Page:

0 Comments

Christmas Cotton Balls by Elaine Marie Cooper

11/19/2016

0 Comments

When I was a child, Christmas was always the time to bring out cotton balls. These soft white puffs were not meant to decorate. Instead, they became our mother’s way of teaching us a spiritual lesson.

She would sit all six of us kids down after Thanksgiving and give instructions. Each cotton ball would mean a kindness done in secret. Only God would know what good deed we had done.

Whenever we did something helpful or nice to someone, we would make sure no one was watching, and then take one cotton ball from the box and put it in a glass jar that Mom placed in the living room.

Well, in a family of five older (and sometimes sneaky!) siblings, it was often difficult for me to insert the cotton ball without anyone noticing. It took some skill for me to only let God see my good deeds. But I tried as hard as I could.

The amazing part was watching the large jar slowly fill with puffs of cotton balls. Were we that good, I wondered? Hopefully God would think so.

The culmination of the Christmas cotton balls occurred on Christmas Eve. Mom gathered everyone around and ceremoniously opened the jar that was chock full of softness. Prior to this evening, the Nativity crèche beneath the tree contained Mary, Joseph and the Shepherds. This night was when Jesus was born and He would be added to the Holy Family.

Mom took the bundle of cotton balls and laid them in between Mary and Joseph. Then she gently placed the statue of Jesus atop the soft pile. We watched in wonder as Mom explained that our good deeds and kindnesses were a token to Jesus of our love for Him. It was a visual reminder that we had served God by giving to others.

I’ll always be grateful to Mom for showing us in a visual way that a child could understand that what is done for others is really done for God. Thanks, Mom.

The crèche and statue of Baby Jesus has now been handed down to the next generation. I pray that believing in Jesus will be carried on as well.

“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,” Matthew 6:3 NIV

Award winning author Elaine Marie Cooper is the author of Saratoga Letters, Fields of the Fatherless, Bethany’s Calendar and the historical trilogy called the Deer Run Saga. She has been captivated by the history of the American Revolution since she was young. She grew up in Massachusetts, the setting for many of her historical novels.

You can read more at her website/blog, www.elainemariecooper.com

Read my review of Fields of the Fatherless.

0 Comments

Christmas Memories: Pajamas to Penlights with Rick Barry

11/12/2016

0 Comments

One childhood Christmas memory involves top-secret, covert operations. No, the CIA didn’t recruit me as a miniature spy. Still, I did take part in undercover intelligence gathering.

In those days, the Barry home had two firm rules concerning December 25. One family policy stated each person could open only one gift or one stocking before eating a proper, nourishing breakfast. (As you might suspect, the children of our home didn’t author this legislation.) The other rule stated no child (there were four) should wake up Mom or Dad before 6:00 a.m. (Of course, the powers that be never explained why on earth parents would want to sleep on Christmas, of all possible mornings. I mean, good grief, it wasn’t as if they had stayed up late doing something, right?)

Of course, between those two rules were loopholes permitting plenty of nocturnal action. No edict declared we kids had to remain in bed until 6:00. Thus was born the solemn Christmas Eve pact between my brother Ray and myself: “If you wake up first, wake me up. If I wake up first, I’ll wake you up.”

That’s exactly what we did. Each year, whichever of us awoke first would rouse the other. Then, quiet as pajama-clad spies, we crept from our basement bedroom to reconnoiter. Thanks to miniature flashlights, we didn’t stub our toes in the dark. More crucial to the op, our penlights cast enough glow to read tags on all the loot piled under the tree. Making sure not to raise a commotion, we whispered back and forth the results of this fact-finding mission:
“Here, this one’s for you.”
“Wow, this big one’s for me! What could it be?”
“Here’s one for Carol. Girl stuff. Push it into the corner.”

After we’d read the tag on every gift and done a lot of guessing, we’d pad back to our beds and yearn for morning. Once the clock reached the magic hour, we woke up the whole house!
Ray and I forged our pint-sized pledge decades ago, and of course we don’t live in the same house anymore. But to this day, even from hundreds of miles away, it’s not unusual for one of us to email or text message the other a Christmas Eve reminder: “If you wake up first….”

Rick Barry is author of The Methuselah Project. Read my review.

Visit Rick Barry at RickCBarry.com

0 Comments

The Wonder of Christmas Morning

11/5/2016

2 Comments

As a child, when I still believed in Santa Claus, Christmas morning was the most exciting time of the year. Our parents never placed any gifts under the tree until my brother and I were sound asleep on Christmas Eve. They kept every one hidden, even the gifts they admitted to giving us.

I’ll never forget the anticipation of waking up (before anyone else) and padding my way to the living room. There, in the center of the room, sat the most glorious sight. Everything in the room seemed to sparkle, lit by the colorful lights and tinsel of the Christmas tree. Unknown wonders were piled around the tree in beautifully wrapped packages. The most exciting were the few gifts that weren’t wrapped. There was always a special toy or two, for my brother and for me, strategically placed among the packages to complete the magic wonderland effect.

It’s been many, many years since I’ve believed in Santa Claus, but Christmas held the same wonder throughout my teen and young adult years.

I continued the tradition with my children. No gifts in view until Christmas morning. I was as excited to see their faces as I had been to discover my own gifts years before.

My children are grown and have their own homes now. It’s been quite a few years since there have been little ones in my house to wake up on Christmas morning. But the wonder and excitement is still there. Now, when I wake up and turn on the Christmas lights, I sit with my coffee and contemplate the true Light who came into our world that first Christmas morning. I think about the gifts of life and love he brought. I think about the surprise blessings that are new every morning.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14 ESV