It is Christmas once more. Do you remember when your world was very young, how you jumped into bed and counted on your fingers just how many days it would be until that glorious day arrived? Lying snug and warm in your featherbed you saw a thousand glittering angel-topped trees in the dark; heard the prancing of Dasher and Dancer on the attic roof. Even the branches of the old aok, storm-tossed against your window,played a yuletide melody.

There was so much to be done in the last few hours before Santa's visit that you scarcely took time to breath. In the flurry of excitement, mother developed the art of moving in all directions at once and you had to be constantly shooed from underfoot.

The fragrance that came from the kitchen sky-rocketed your anticipation of good things to come-cinnamon and nutmeg. Not to mention ginger cookies and fresh baked bread cooling on the sturdy table. The pantry bulged with vegetables, apples and jars of golden fruit brought up from the cellar. Do you remember making sure there were spiced peaches because you liked those best?

Bringing in wood for the fireplace in the "company" room became a pleasure. And shoveling a path through the snow from the porch all the way to the woodshed was a chore you really wanted to do. The spirit of giving and doing filled every inch of your small frame.

And what fun it was going into the woods to chop down the Christmas tree! Though the icy wind stiffened your nose and ears, the glow in your heart more than made up for the pain you knew. And the joy in your hearts as the family gathered round to decorate the christmas tree with handmade ornaments, strings of cranberries and popcorn were so carefully strung.

The ritual of hanging your stocking was one that shattered your heart into diamond-like-fragments of happiness. You could never find a word for that enchanted moment-even to this day. Then to bed, and 'though the floor was as cold as the pond on which you hoped to try your new skates, you did not leave out a single prayer. The first one was for baby Jesus, and the last for the safety of St. Nicholas.

The Eve of Christmas is upon us once again. Candles of memory flame brightly over the years and the miles of drifted snow. In your dreams tonight may you hear the cry of a new born King as you heard it in your childhood's golden hours; songs of angels; and shepherds' sandled steps on Bethlehem's starlit road. And may you wake to a world grown miraculously new, beautiful beyond belief, because a little child came into it with the gift of perfect love for all men.

There's more to come so please take a moment to sign my guest book and let me know you were here, and then continue your walk through the Winter Wonderland. Click on next under the guestbook.

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