The Book of Christmas Virtues

by Jack Canfield

  With my heart warmed by the unfolding drama, I went back into the shop.

  “Could I trouble you for another dozen doughnuts?” I asked, then told the clerk what I had witnessed.

  Christmas spirit, it seemed, was more contagious than flu or chicken pox. Indeed, the cold night got even warmer when the woman not only wouldn’t let me pay for the doughnuts, but added a large coffee, too.

  “These are from the lady inside. Have a nice night,” I said as I delivered the warm doughnuts and piping-hot cup. The old man smiled appreciatively.

  “You have a nice night, too,” the teens said.

  I already had.

  Woody Woodburn

  ’Twas the Night

  When I was a child, our family traditionally caroled on Christmas Eve. It was a joint venture, with the neighborhood churches all participating. Not only did we brave the cold winds to sing door-to-door, but our caroling benefited the Fannie Battle Day Home, a local organization for unwed mothers.

  The procedure was routine. We met at the local Methodist church, divided into teams and conducted a quick rehearsal. A child was commissioned as spokesperson for the evening and given a modest, wooden box with a slit in the top to collect donations.

  Assuming a seven-year-old could easily pull the heartstrings of any Scrooge that lived in the district, someone handed me the collection box that year. My assignment was elementary: Wait patiently until someone opened the door, and then cheerfully announce, “Merry Christmas! We’re collecting money for the Fannie Battle Day Home. Would you like to make a donation?”

  I memorized my lines before leaving the church and walked proudly ahead of the others, protecting the box with my tiny, gloved hands.

  A dusty snow fell around us, and halos around the streetlamps provided our only light—except for the flashlights used to read music. Some houses felt inviting, others intimidating, but—sensing the choir was never far behind—I boldly approached each home and knocked loudly.

  A towering old man, dressed in his pajamas, came to a window and peered through the curtains before opening his door. My knees trembled, but I waited until he acknowledged me and courageously blurted out my rehearsed appeal.

  “Merry Christmas! We’re from the Dannie Hattle Fay Bome. Would you like to make a monation?”

  The man chuckled and motioned his wife to bring his wallet. Together they dropped in a few dollars. Ah, success! On to the next house.

  “Merry Christmas! We’re from the Hannie Dattle Bay Fome. Would you care to make a dolation?”

  And at another door, “Merry Christmas! We’re from the Bannie Fattle Hay Dome. Would you need to make some domations?”

  No doubt about it, I was cute. And in spite of the fact that I couldn’t get the words right, people were generous and good-hearted. But I was young and cold and growing weary.

  Too tired to carry on, I surrendered my position at the front line of duty to a more experienced caroler. Huddling close to the others, I stomped my feet and blew my breath into my palms like I watched others do. It wasn’t long before we arrived at the end of Cephas Avenue, completing the circle back to the Methodist Church.

  Hot chocolate, doughnuts and my mother waited for us in the warm hall. Once my toes were thawed and my tummy full, Mama took me home and nestled me all snug in my wee little bed.

  But there were no sugarplums dancing in my head that night. No visions of candy canes or lollipops. Instead, I fell asleep remembering the faces of those who gladly put money into my little wooden box . . . remembering the house where we sang around the bedside of a wrinkled, old lady in a hospital gown . . . remembering how she cried when we left . . . remembering the carolers softly singing “Away in a Manger” under a light snow.

  The night’s music and magic stayed with me. And I remember it still—each Christmas Eve—when I’m nestled all snug in my wee little bed.

  Charlotte A. Lanham

  Let It Snow!

  “Wasn’t tonight’s church service wonderful, Beth?”

  “Hmm? I’m sorry. What did you say, dear?”

  Roe glanced at his wife. “I asked what you thought of the Christmas Eve program.”

  “Nice. It was . . . nice.” Beth looked over her shoulder. All three kids slumped against each other in the backseat, sound asleep.

  “But?”

  Beth didn’t answer. She turned to stare out the windshield. A steady stream of traffic slinked like a glowworm, inching its way along the interstate at the foothills of Colorado’s Front Range.

  “Beth? What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong? Oh, I’m not sure that anything in particular is wrong, but it’s not exactly right, either.” She sighed. “Or maybe it’s just that everything is so . . . different.”

  “Well, this isn’t Minnesota,” Roe chuckled.

  “No, it’s not, and that’s the problem. I guess I’m homesick. Christmas in Minnesota was . . .” Beth’s voice trailed off, and her mind followed.

  Christmas—in Minnesota.

  Where stars glittered over a frozen wonderland. How well she knew those winter scenes with steepled churches, fence posts, fields and barns. All covered with icy snow, wonderful for sledding and old-fashioned sleigh rides and building igloos and forts and massive snow sculptures and . . .

  Christmas—at church.

  Where friends whispered seasonal greetings. Where aunts, uncles and giggling young cousins crowded into pews. Where grandparents still sang the old carols in Norwegian.

  Christmas—at home.

  Where getting a tree meant a trip to the woods on the family farm and a lively debate over the merits of each person’s chosen favorite. Where Grandpa’s axe always made the first cut and the kids dragged the tree to the car by its trunk. Where sticky sap glued their mittens to the bark.

  To her, Christmas was Minnesota. Her childhood was gift-wrapped in those warm memories of tradition, and she had planned on more of the same for her own kids. Until this move changed everything.

  Instead, here they were, heading back to a new house in a new neighborhood after participating in a—different— Christmas Eve service with new people in a new church.

  “I’m sorry, Roe. Tonight’s program really went well. I guess I just missed our traditional sing-a-long, bell choir and candlelight vespers.”

  “Different places do different things, Beth. You’ll get used to it.” Roe signaled to change lanes.

  “I suppose.”

  “Truthfully, I think your homesickness is nothing that a good snowfall couldn’t cure,” Roe teased as he eased the car toward the exit ramp.

  “Well, I must admit, when we moved here this autumn and I got my first glimpse of those towering Rocky Mountains, I just assumed snowy winters were a given.” Beth looked at the dark peaks silhouetted against the clear night sky and shivered. “But all this cold weather and not a flake in sight!”

  “Only in the upper elevations.” Roe pointed to Long’s Peak, favored hiking destination of the locals. “There’s the nearest snow and plenty of it.”

  “A lot of good that does!”

  “It’s probably only a hour’s drive to the trailhead. What do you say we head up there tomorrow with the kids and spend Christmas afternoon in the mountains?”

  Beth grimaced. Spending part of Christmas Day driving to find snow didn’t fit her mood, and it certainly didn’t fill the mold of traditional holiday activities.

  “It’s not the same as shoveling sidewalks or building a snowman in the yard or making an arsenal.” She paused. “Remember the snowball fights we used to have?”

  Roe and Beth grinned at each other.

  “Yeah,” Roe said. “In fact, just today I was telling that nice Ben Johnston across the alley how much we’ll miss the neighborhood snowball challenges we hosted in Minnesota each Christmas. He got a good chuckle when I told him it was kids against adults—and the adults usually lost.”

  “That’s what I want for Christmas, Roe.”

  “What?”

&nbs
p; “I want to look out the window Christmas morning and see something more than winter-brown grass. I want snow and an old-fashioned snowball fight with friends. Home means tradition. Is tradition too much to ask for?”

  Slowing, Roe turned down Logan Drive.

  “Oh, Beth, I’m sorry this move has been so rough on . . . Well, I’ll be!” Roe braked in the middle of the street. “Look!”

  Beth gasped. Their lawn—bare and brown only hours before—was covered with several inches of snow. The grass, the walks, the porch and the bushes all sparkled under the streetlight’s glow.

  “Snow, kids, snow! Wake up and look at our yard!”

  Rubbing sleep from their eyes, all three kids tumbled from the car and raced to the glittery powder. Beth and Roe sat spellbound.

  “I can’t believe my eyes,” said Beth. “Snow! SNOW! But . . . it’s only in OUR yard. How? And . . . why?”

  “Who knows, Hon? But you certainly got your Christmas wish, or part of it, anyway.”

  Roe pointed down the street. “Well, would you look at that!” Ben Johnston’s muddied pickup—loaded with snowblowers and shovels, headlights dimmed—slipped around the corner, leaving a fine trail of white.

  “And tomorrow you get the rest.” He smiled at his wife. “What do you say we revive an old snowball tradition— with a brand-new neighborhood of friends!”

  Carol McAdoo Rehme

  Suitable for Flaming

  The hearth is the natural gathering place for family celebrations, so why not implement the warm ritual of burning the Yule log? Don’t have a fireplace? Don’t let that keep you from participating. Select the method that works for your family.

  Traditional:

  Traipse to the woodpile and select the nicest log to burn this Christmas. Embellish it with sprigs of evergreen, holly leaves or mistletoe. Tie the bundle with a burnable holiday ribbon.

  Alternative:

  Drill a shallow hole in a short log and fill it with a scented candle. Decorate with seasonal ornaments, artificial snow or holiday ribbon.

  Display your Yule log on the hearth, mantle or table until Christmas Eve. Then, with great ceremony, light or burn your log, sing “Deck the Halls,” (which mentions the Yule log), and enjoy the whimsy and wonder of gazing into the flames.

  Ancient tradition claims that saving some cooled embers to start your Yule log fire the following year will bring good fortune and, perhaps, even miracles into your home.

  Who Is Jack Canfield?

  Jack Canfield is one of America’s leading experts in the development of human potential and personal effectiveness. He is both a dynamic, entertaining speaker and a highly sought-after trainer.

  He is the author and narrator of several bestselling audio and videocassette programs, including Self-Esteem and Peak Performance, How to Build High Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem in the Classroom and Chicken Soup for the Soul—Live. He is regularly seen on television shows such as Good Morning America, 20/20 and NBC Nightly News. Jack has coauthored numerous books, including the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, Dare to Win and The Aladdin Factor (all with Mark Victor Hansen), 100 Ways to Build Self-Concept in the Classroom (with Harold C. Wells) and Heart at Work (with Jacqueline Miller).

  Jack is a regularly featured speaker for professional associations, school districts, government agencies, churches, hospitals, sales organizations and corporations. His clients have included the American Dental Association, the American Management Association, AT&T, Campbell’s Soup, Clairol, Domino’s Pizza, GE, ITT, Hartford Insurance, Johnson & Johnson, the Million Dollar Roundtable, NCR, New England Telephone, Re/Max, Scott Paper, TRW and Virgin Records. Jack is also on the faculty of Income Builders International, a school for entrepreneurs.

  Jack conducts an annual eight-day Training of Trainers program in the areas of self-esteem and peak performance. The program attracts educators, counselors, parenting trainers, corporate trainers, professional speakers, ministers and others interested in developing their speaking and seminar-leading skills.

  For further information about Jack’s books, tapes and training programs, or to schedule him for a presentation, please contact:

  The Canfield Training Group

  P.O. Box 30880 • Santa Barbara, CA 93130

  Phone: 805-563-2935 • Fax: 805-563-2945

  Visit our Web site: www.chickensoup.com

  Who Is Mark Victor Hansen?

  Mark Victor Hansen is a professional speaker who, in the last twenty years, has made more than four thousand presentations to more than two million people in thirty-two countries. His presentations cover sales excellence and strategies; personal empowerment and development regardless of stages of life; and how to triple your income and double your time off.

  Mark has spent a lifetime dedicated to his mission of making a profound and positive difference in people’s lives. Throughout his career, he has inspired hundreds of thousands of people to create a more powerful and purposeful future for themselves while stimulating the sale of billions of dollars worth of goods and services.

  Mark is a prolific writer and has authored Future Diary, How to Achieve Total Prosperity and The Miracle of Tithing. He is coauthor of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, Dare to Win and The Aladdin Factor (all with Jack Canfield), The Master Motivator (with Joe Batten) and Out of the Blue (with Barbara Nichols).

  Mark has also produced a complete library of personal empowerment audio and videocassette programs that have enabled his listeners to recognize and use their innate abilities in their business and personal lives. His message has made him a popular television and radio personality, with appearances on ABC, NBC, CBS, HBO, PBS and CNN. He has also appeared on the cover of numerous magazines, including Success, Entrepreneur and Changes. In 2000, Mark was a recipient of the prestigious Horatio Algier Award for his humanitarianism.

  Mark is a big man with a heart and spirit to match—an inspiration to people of all ages who seek to better themselves.

  For further information about Mark write to:

  MVH & Associates

  P.O. Box 7665

  Newport Beach, CA 92658

  Phone: 949-759-9304 or 800-433-2314

  Fax: 949-722-6912

  Web site: www.chickensoup.com

  Who Is Carol McAdoo Rehme?

  No matter which hat she’s wearing—dedicated writer and editor, nonprofit director, or public speaker—Carol McAdoo Rehme peppers everything she does with an enthusiasm for the power of story.

  An active freelancer who has found her niche in the inspirational market, Carol is a prolific contributor to the Chicken Soup series. Her work also appears widely in other anthologies. In addition, Carol edited Chicken Soup for the Bride’s Soul, Chicken Soup for the African American Soul, and Chicken Soup for the Mothers of Preschoolers Soul.

  Besides coauthoring several gift books, she occasionally writes for magazines and some children’s publications. Chicken Soup for the Soul: Book of Christmas Virtues is her first project to coauthor for Chicken Soup.

  When she isn’t busy writing stories, Carol is actively telling them. She presents at educational and corporate conferences and a variety of other venues including museums, dude ranches, libraries, schools, and civic clubs. As the Traveling Storyteller for the Loveland Public Library, Carol directed a park outreach program for ten years, serving thousands of children each summer.

  Her current passion revolves around the frail elderly. Carol directs a vibrant nonprofit agency—Vintage Voices, Inc.—whose primary program, Silver Linings for Golden Agers, targets residents of long-term care facilities. This grant-driven arts model provides engaging thematic activities that are interactive and energetic, with a strong focus on sharing stories.

  Kansas transplants, Carol and her husband, Norm, claim deep roots in Colorado where they raised their four children—Kyle, Katrina, Kayla and Koy. Carol now proudly wears new hats that read: Mother-in-law and Grammy.

  She can be reached at:

  Carol McAdoo Rehme


  1127 Garfield Avenue

  Loveland CO 80537

  Phone: 970-669-5791

  Web site: www.rehme.com

  E-mail: carol@rehme.com

  Contributors

  Several of the stories in this book were taken from previously published sources, such as books, magazines and newspapers. These sources are acknowledged in the permissions section. However, some of the stories were written by humorists, comedians, professional speakers and workshop presenters, as well as by kids. If you would like to contact them for information on their books, audiotapes and videotapes, seminars and workshops, you can reach them at the addresses and phone numbers provided below.

  The remainder of the stories were submitted by readers of our previous Chicken Soup for the Soul books who responded to our requests for stories. We have also included information about them.

  Toby Ann Abraham-Rhine is a part-time counselor, teacher and performing artist. She and her husband choose to live very simply in order to travel. They saved for years, sold all they had and went around the world with their three children. Readers may enjoy the journey through A Brilliant Teacher from Sawtooth Press.

  Kathryn Beisner is a writer and motivational storyteller. Her love of history and family traditions are celebrated in her popular audio book Ordinary Women with Extraordinary Spirit! and an by essay in Chili Today,Hot Tamale. Kathryn lives by the motto, “No Guts, No Story!” For more adventures visit www.kbsproductions.com.

  Robert H. Bickmeyer is retired from General Motors. He writes for the Olive Branch Press, the Think Club and Military Magazine, as well as guest columns for newspapers in southeast Michigan. He is now writing a book, Laughter in Real Life. Bob plays senior citizen softball, volleyball and golf. He can be reached at (248) 879-0207.

  Henry Boye is a professional writer/author/cartoonist whose work has appeared in many leading newspapers and magazines. He resides with his wife, Anita, in an adult community in Englishtown, New Jersey.