I asked my friends for warm hearted Christmas stories I could put up on my pages. These pages are for the enjoyment of all and hopefully will cheer someone up or help fan the flames of the Christmas spirit. So far the story suggest by most of my friends are the Christmas envelope. It is a story found all over the web that seems to remind us of the Christmas Spirit. Here it is.

      It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of
      our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no
      inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree
      for the past 10 years or so.

      It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---oh,
      not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial
      aspects of it-overspending. the frantic running around at the
      last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting
      powder for Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because
      you couldn't think of anything else.

      Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the
      usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for
      something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an
      unusual way.

      Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the
      junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before
      Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team
      sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These
      youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings
      seemed to be the only thing holding them together,
      presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue
      and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the
      match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was
      wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed
      to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team
      obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping
      them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys
      got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with
      false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't
      acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his
      head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he
      said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could
      take the heart right out of them."

      Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached
      little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the
      idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local
      sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling
      headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the
      inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope
      on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and
      that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest
      thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

      For each Christmas, I followed the tradition---one year
      sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a
      hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly
      brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week
      before Christmas, and on and on. 

      The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was
      always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our
      children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with
      wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from
      the tree to reveal its contents.

      As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical
      presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story
      doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to
      dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so
      wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas
      Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the
      morning, it was joined by three more.

      Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed
      an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has
      grown and someday will expand even further with our
      grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed
      anticipation watching as their fathers take down the
      envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always
      be with us.

      May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the
      season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.
      God bless---pass this along to your friends and loved ones.

                              Author Unknown

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