The Real Meaning of Christmas

Amy was at my house that Sunday morning, telling me a Christmas story.

"So last year, I was extremely naughty," she said.

I nodded.

"I growled at the cat, I screeched in church, and I even ate pencil shavings!"

I grimaced at the last one.

"That Christmas Eve, I worried. A LOT!"

Again, I nodded.

"The next morning, I woke up to find a letter on my bedside table. It was written in neat black cursive."

"What did it say, Amy?" I asked.

"Patience, Aria," she said back. We laughed and she continued her story.

"It said, 'Dear Amy, I gave you no presents, but seeing your family and spreading joy is a present of its own. Your friend, Santa Claus.' The end."

Her story warmed my heart. Spreading cheer really was the point of Christmas. Merry Christmas!
 
M

Ms. Gormly

VT

YWP Instructor

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