Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

for their children. A sad reality, I find myself thinking out loud, and then I say a silent prayer for those innocent kids who may never have anyone teach them the true meaning of the holiday season.
    I look around and see that the merchants are all smiling and full of glee. Sales are down this year—people have moved to other parts of the country—but things are going great today. Yes, they are on par with last year’s sales for Christmas Eve. Again, I muse, surely this could never be God’s plan.
    I turn my attention to the other end of the mall and see one of my coworkers. She looks tired and frazzled. No wonder, I think to myself, she has been preparing for the holidays since early November. My coworker put up her tree weeks ago, and now dust is settling on the stairway garland that she painstakingly put in place with the tenacity of Martha
    Stewart. I let my mind wander back for a few moments, and I recall a conversation I had with my daughter as we left this woman’s house three weeks earlier. As we walked back to our car, Emily looked up at me and said, “Mommy, how come we don’t have our tree up yet? Won’t Christmas soon be here?”
    â€œYes, honey, it will—in three more weeks.” Then I thought of the best reason to explain why our house still looked bare.
    â€œDarling,” I said, “your birthday is next month. I think when we take down the tree, I’ll put up balloons and streamers and decorate the whole house for your party.”
    â€œDon’t be silly, Mommy. My birthday isn’t for a long time after Christmas. It would be foolish to decorate so early!”
    â€œOh, really? Do you know why we have Christmas?”
    â€œGee, Mommy, you really are being silly. Of course I know why we have Christmas. It’s Jesus’s birthday.”
    â€œExactly, my dear,” I replied. “And if you think it is silly to start decorating for your birthday three weeks early, don’t you think it is equally foolish to start decorating for Jesus’s birthday too soon?”
    She nodded her head in agreement and gave my hand a little squeeze. It was our silent understanding that we both knew and understood the true meaning of Christmas.
    My thoughts quickly came back to the present as my coworker approached me. “Taking a little break, are you?
    Have you got all your shopping done?” she asked.
    â€œAs much as I am going to do,” I told her. “I’m not here to shop. I just have a deposit to make.”
    â€œOh, well,” she said, “I have no money left to put in the bank. In fact, I just had to take more out to pay for these few gifts I had forgotten about.” She laid down several large packages that weighed heavily in her arms.
    â€œI wish my crowd would give up this gift-giving thing.
    You can’t buy anything for ten dollars now. And what do you get for a teenage boy anyway? My nerves are gone. I can’t wait to get back to work to get my check—God knows I’m gonna need it.”
    I sat in silence as she bent to retrieve her parcels, but as she turned to leave, I said, “Maybe we can get together over the holidays. Give me a call, and I’ll prepare a nice meal for us all.”
    â€œThat would be perfect,” she shouted as she waved her one free hand and made her way into the nearby sporting goods store.
    I glanced at my watch and gathered up my gloves, my purse, and my thoughts. I decided that the time had arrived. I would put it off no longer. My eyes started to fill with tears as I made my way through the center of the mall. I was here to carry on a tradition that my poor father had started so many years ago. Each time I thought of him, my heart ached a little more, especially at Christmastime.
    This year would mark the fourteenth anniversary of his death. He had been a loving and generous man who always found time to help others. Financially, he was probably the poorest man in