- Picc has been removed from Kathy's arm. No fever and no problems.
- Kathy's brother and his wife came in for Christmas. Our girls went nuts for Uncle Scott and Aunt Emily. They love them and they are loved in return.
- I'm trying to help the girls find room for all of their new toys. Kristina received lots of items about horses and Kate received lots of baby doll toys. She's also the little "diva" so she got lots of play shoes, dresses, bling and cute little girl things.
- Spent a wonderful Christmas will all of those that we love.
Here's something I found on the net the other night. Enjoy
This is a Christmas story. By MICHAEL COREN
His body trembles and shakes. "Could you, could you spare some money?"
I turn round to answer him and this very gesture of contact makes this homeless man shrink back further into his hiding place. I ask if he is hungry.
Of course he is.
This homeless man's broken body is little more than a coated skeleton.
I tell him I'll buy him some food, and begin to walk to the corner store a few yards away.
As I walk I realize that he is following me, a yard behind, like some ancient servant in an archaic culture.
He follows because he doesn't trust me. People lie to him all the time.
As he walks he trembles and chatters. And stinks. The sickening odour of urine, muck and decay.
The cologne I am wearing probably cost more money than he will see in a lifetime. And I'm uncomfortable, embarrassed.
Don't know what to say, what to do. People are looking around when they smell him, and they're looking at me.
We walk into the store. Me with good clothes and good job. Him with ripped pants and nothing.
I take some milk, chips, peanuts, any food that looks vaguely comforting and nourishing. I walk to the counter. He follows. I put the goods down and wait to pay.
The woman working in the store looks pained.
ODOUR
There is a tin of fresh-air spray underneath the corner, used after street people come into the store so as to expunge the smell.
I don't blame her. I may do the same.
She looks at me. Then at him. Then at me. Then again at him. She seems bewildered, even nervous. A pause, and then: "Are you two, are you, are you together. Are you together?"
She was asking, of course, if I was paying for this man who looked as though he had not seen money in a very long time.
Were we together? Was I together with this man? A very sensible and easy question.
It seemed to take an eternity for the question to register.
Only a second of course. But it was as if the whole world and all of its possibilities suddenly flushed and flashed though my mind. I steadied myself. "Yes", I said. "We are together."
And that was it. I have never seen him again and don't know what happened to him.
Don't know whether he is now dead or alive.
Frankly, it could be the former. But I do know what happened to me many years ago and is still happening. I followed Christ.
The day will come when I will stand, broken, smashed and stinking.
The stench will be my own sin. The question will be asked, "Are you two together." Because of Jesus Christ, whose birthday we are about to celebrate, because of my certainty that He lived, died and rose again for me and for all of us, the question will be in the affirmative. "Yes," He will say, "Yes, we are together." And I will have eternal happiness with my father in heaven.
So many mockers these days, so many materialists and so many spiteful people who know they can abuse Christ and His followers and do very well out of it. It hurts, but it doesn't matter. Christmas is still Christmas and He is still God.
Merry Christmas,
JimbeauxLSU
