The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 24th

December 24th

For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a tabernacle of clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles... And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning...

Carol: Silent Night

Tonight is Christmas Eve.

This night we will read from the scriptures the Christmas story.

Luke 1:26-38, 46, 47

Luke 2:1-20

Matthew 2:1-14

Merry Christmas

And Santa whispered, "Teach the children the true meaning of Christmas"

The Star: A heavenly sign of prophecy fulfilled long, long, ages ago - The shining hope of mankind.

Red: The first color of Christmas symbolizing the Savior's sacrifice for us all.

Fir Tree: Evergreen - The second color of Christmas shows everlasting life. The needles point heavenward.

The Bell: Rings out to guide lost sheep back to the fold - signifying that all are precious in the eyes of the Lord.

The Candle: A mirror of starlight reflecting our thanks for the Star of Bethlehem.

Gift Bow: Tied as we should be tied together in bonds of goodwill forever.

Candy Cane: The shepherds' crook used to bring lambs back into the fold - A reminder that we are all our brother's keeper.

The Wreath: A symbol of the never ending eternal nature of love... having no beginning and no end.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 23rd

December 23rd

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judæa in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. Matthew 2:1-2

Carol: With Wondering Awe

The Most Beautiful Thing

Author Unknown

The sides of the path were covered with rugs of white snow.  But in the center, its whiteness was crushed and churned into a foaming brown by the tramp of hundreds of hurrying feet.  It was the day before Christmas.  People rushed up and down the path carrying arm loads and bundles.  They laughed and called to each other as they pushed their way through the crowds.  Above the path, the long arms of an ancient tree reached upward to the sky.  It swayed and moaned as strong winds grasped its branches and bent them toward the earth.  Down below, a haughty laugh sounded and a lovely fir tree stretched and preened its thick green branches, sending a fine spray of snow shimmering downward to the ground.

“I should think,” said the fir in a high smug voice, “that you’d try a little harder to stand still. Goodness knows you’re ugly enough with the leaves you’ve already lost.  If you move around anymore, you’ll soon be quite bare.”

“I know,” answered the old tree. “Everything has put on its most beautiful clothes for the celebration of the birth of Christ.  Even from here I can see the decorations shining from each street corner.  And yesterday some men came and put the brightest, loveliest lights on every tree along the path, except me of course.”  He sighed softly and a flake of snow melted in the form of a teardrop and ran down his gnarled trunk.

“Oh, indeed!” smirked the fir.  “And did you expect they’d put lights upon you so your ugliness would stand out even more?”

“I guess you’re right,” replied the old tree in a sad voice. “If there were only somewhere I could hide until after the celebrations are over, but here I stand, the only ugly thing among all this beauty.  If they would only come and chop me down,” he sighed sorrowfully.

“Well, I don’t wish you any ill will,” replied the fir, “but you are an eyesore. Perhaps it would be better for us all if they came and chopped you down.” Once again he stretched his lovely thick branches. “You might try to hang onto those three small leaves you still have. At least you wouldn’t be completely bare.”

“Oh, I’ve tried so hard,” cried the old tree “Each Fall I say to myself, “This year I won’t give up a single leaf, no matter what the cause.”  He sighed.  “But someone always comes along who seems to need them more than I.”

“I told you not to give so many to that dirty little paper boy,” said the fir. “Why you even lowered your branches a little so he could reach them.  You can’t say I didn’t warn you then.”

“Yes, you did at that,” the old tree replied. “But they made him so happy.  I heard him say he would pick some for his sick mother.”

“Oh, they all had good causes,” mocked the fir. “That young girl, for instance, colored leaves for her party indeed! They were your leaves!”

“She took a lot, didn’t she?” said the old tree and he seemed to smile.

Just then a cold wind blew down the path and a tiny, brown bird fell to the ground at the foot of the old tree and lay there shivering, too cold to lift its wings. The old tree looked down in pity and then he quickly let go of his last three leaves. The golden leaves fluttered down and settled softly over the shivering little bird and it lay there quietly under the warmth of them. “Now you’ve done it!” shrieked the fir. “You’ve given away every single leaf!  Christmas morning you’ll make your path the ugliest sight in the whole city!”

The old tree said nothing.  Instead he stretched out his branches to gather what snowflakes he could that they might not fall on the tiny bird. The young fir turned away in anger and it was then he noticed a painter sitting quietly a few feet from the path, intent upon his long brushes and canvas.  His clothes were old and tattered and his face wore a sad expression.  He was thinking of his loved ones and the empty, cheerless Christmas morning they would face, for he had not sold a single painting in the last months.  But the little tree didn’t see this. Instead he turned back to the old tree and said in a haughty voice, “At least keep those bare branches as far away from me as possible. I’m being painted and hideousness will mar the background.”

“I’ll try,” replied the old tree. And he raised his branches as high as possible. It was almost dark when the painter picked up his easel and left and the little fir was tired and cross from all his preening and posing.

Christmas morning the little fir tree awoke late and as he proudly shook away the snow from his lovely branches, he was amazed to see a huge crowd of people surrounding the old tree, ah-ing and oh-ing as they stood back and gazed upward. And even those hurrying along the path had to stop for a moment to sigh before they went on. “Whatever could it be?” thought the haughty fir, and he too looked up to see if perhaps the top of the old tree had been broken off during the night.

Just then a paper blew away from the hands of an enraptured newsboy and sailed straight into the young fir.  The fir gasped in amazement — for there on the front page was a picture of the painter holding his painting of a great white tree whose leafless branches, laden with snow, stretched upward into the sky; while down below lay a tiny brown bird almost covered by three golden leaves.  Beneath the picture were the words, “The Most Beautiful Thing Is That Which Hath Given All.”

The young fir shifted backward as he shamefully understood the reverence being paid.  He paused for a moment, then again shifted as he quietly joined the crowd and bowed his head beneath the majestic beauty of the humble old tree.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 22nd

December 22nd

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. Luke 2:12-14

Carol: We Three Kings of Orient Are

The Man Who Missed Christmas

by J, Edgar Park

It was Christmas Eve, and, as usual, George Mason was the last to leave the office.  He walked over to the massive safe, spun the dials and swung the heavy doors open.  Making sure the door would not close behind him, he stepped inside.  A square of white cardboard was taped just above the topmost row of strongboxes.  On the card a few words were written.  George Mason stared at those words, remembering…

Exactly one year ago he had entered this self-same vault. And then, behind his back, slowly, noiselessly, the ponderous door swung shut.  He was trapped, entombed in the sudden and terrifying dark.  He hurled himself at the unyielding door, his hoarse cry sounding like an explosion. Through his mind flashed all the stories he had heard of men found suffocated in time vaults.  No time clock controlled this mechanism; the safe would remain locked until it was opened from the outside. Tomorrow morning.

Then the realization hit him. No one would come tomorrow morning. Tomorrow was Christmas.

Once more he flung himself at the door, shouting wildly, until he sank on his knees, exhausted. Silence came, high-pitched, singing silence that seemed deafening. More than thirty-six hours would pass before anyone came. Thirty-six hours in a steel box three feet wide, eight feet long and seven feet high. Would the oxygen last?  Perspiring and breathing heavily, he felt his way around the floor. Then, in the far right-hand corner, just above the floor, he found a small, circular opening.  Quickly, he thrust his finger into it and felt a faint, but unmistakable, cool current of air.

The tension release was so sudden that he burst into tears. But at last he sat up. Surely he would not have to stay trapped for the full thirty-six hours.  Somebody would miss him.  But who?  He was unmarried and lived alone. The maid who cleaned his apartment was just a servant; he had always treated her as such. He had been invited to spend Christmas Eve with his brother’s family, but children got on his nerves and expected presents. A friend had asked him to go to a home for elderly people on Christmas Day and play the piano.  George Mason was a good musician.  But he had made some excuse or other;  he had intended to sit at home, listening to some new recordings he was giving himself.

George dug his nails into the palms of his hands until the pain balanced the misery in his mind. Nobody would come and let him out. Nobody, nobody, nobody.  Miserably the whole of Christmas Day went by, and the succeeding night. On the morning after Christmas the head clerk came into the office at the usual time, opened the safe then went on into his private office.  No one saw George Mason stagger out into the corridor, run to the water cooler and drink big gulps of water. No one paid any attention to him as he left and took a taxi home.

Then he shaved, changed his wrinkled clothes, ate breakfast and returned to his office where his employees greeted him casually. That day he met several acquaintances and talked to his own brother.  Grimly, the truth closed in on George Mason. He had vanished from human society during the greatest festival of brotherhood and no one had missed him at all.

Reluctantly, George began to think about the true meaning of Christmas. Was it possible that he had been blind all these years with selfishness, indifference and pride?  Was not giving, after all, the essence of Christmas because it marked the time God gave His son to the world?

All through the year that followed, with little hesitant deeds of kindness, with small, unnoticed acts of unselfishness, George Mason tried to prepare himself.

Now, once more, it was Christmas Eve. Slowly he backed out of the safe and closed it. He touched its grim, steel face lightly, almost affectionately, and left the office.

There he goes now in his black overcoat and hat, the same George Mason as a year ago. Or is it? He walks a few blocks, then flags a taxi, anxious not to be late. His nephews are expecting him to help them trim the tree. Afterwards, he is taking his brother and his sister-in-law to a Christmas play. Why is he so happy? Why does this jostling against others, laden as he is with bundles, exhilarate and delight him?

Perhaps the card has something to do with it, the card he taped inside his office safe last New Year’s Day. On the card is written, in George Mason’s own hand: “To love people, to be indispensable somewhere, that is the purpose of life. That is the secret of happiness.”

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 21st

December 21st

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:8-11

Carol: How Great Thou Art

The Christmas I Remember Best

by Rheuama A. West

It should have been the worst, the bleakest of Christmases.  It turned out to be the loveliest of all my life.  I was nine years old, one of seven children and we lived in a little farming town in Utah. It had been a tragic year for all of us.  But we still had our father and that made all the difference.

Every year a Christmas Eve social was held at the church.  How well I remember Dad buttoning our coats, placing us all on our long, homemade sleigh and pulling us to the church about a mile away.  It was snowing.  How cold and good it felt on our faces. We held tight to one another and above the crunch Dad’s feet we could hear him softly whispering, “Silent night.”

Mama had died that previous summer.  She had been confined to bed for three years so Dad had assumed all mother and father responsibilities.  I remember him standing me on a stool by our big, round kitchen table and teaching me to mix bread. But my main task was being Mama’s hands and feet until that day in June, her own birthday, when she died.

Two months later came the big fire.  Our barns, sheds, haystacks and livestock were destroyed.  It was a calamity, but Dad stood between us and the disaster.  We weren’t even aware of how poor we were.  We had no money at all.

I don’t remember much about the Christmas Eve social.  I just remember Dad pulling us there and pulling us back.  Later, in the front room around our pot-bellied stove, he served us our warm milk and bread.  Our Christmas tree, topped by a little worn cardboard angel, had been brought from the nearby hills.  Strings of our home-grown popcorn made it the most beautiful tree I had ever seen.

After supper Dad made all seven of us sit in a half circle by the tree.  I remember I wore a long flannel nightgown.  He sat on the floor facing us and told us that he was ready to give us our Christmas gift.  We waited, puzzled because we thought Christmas presents were for Christmas morning.  Dad looked at our expectant faces. “Long ago,” he said, “on a night like this, some poor shepherds were watching their sheep on a lonely hillside, when all of a sudden…”

His quiet voice went on and on, telling the story of the Christ Child in his own simple words and I’ll never forget how love and gratitude seemed to fill the room. There was light from the oil lamp and warmth from the stove, but somehow it was more than that.  We felt Mama’s presence.

We learned that loving someone was far more important than having something. We were filled with peace and happiness and joy.  When the story was ended Dad had us all kneel for a family prayer.  Then he said, “Try to remember, when everything else seems to be lost, the greatest thing of all remains: God loves us. That’s what Christmas means. That’s the gift that can never be taken away.”

The next morning we found that Dad had whittled little presents for each of us and hung them on the tree; dolls for the girls and whistles for the boys.  But he was right; he had given us our real gift the night before.

All this happened long ago, but to this day it all comes back to me whenever I hear a Christmas hymn, or feel snowflakes on my face, or, best of all, when I get an occasional glimpse of Christ shining in my ninety-year old father’s face.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 20th

December 20th

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judæa, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there... she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:4-7

Carol: O Hush Thee My Baby

Trouble at the Inn

by Dina Donahue

For many years now, whenever Christmas pageants are talked about, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling.  Wally’s performance in one annual production of the nativity play has slipped into the realm of legend.  But the old-timers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened.

Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, thought he should have been in the fourth.  Most people in town knew that he had difficulty keeping up.  He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind.  Still, Wally was well liked by the other children in his class, though the boys had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them, or any game, for that matter, in which winning was important.

Most often they’d find a way to keep him out, but Wally would hang around anyway – not sulking, just hoping.  He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector of the underdog.  Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would always be Wally who’d say, ‘Can’t they stay?   They’re no bother.”

Wally fancied the idea of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play’s director, Miss Lumbard, assigned him to a more important role.  After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines and Wally’s size would make his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful.

And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience gathered for the town’s yearly extravaganza of beards, crowns, halos and a whole stage full of squeaky voices.  No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than Wallace Purling.  They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lumbard had to make sure he didn’t wander on stage before his cue.

Then the time came when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the Inn.  Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door set into the painted backdrop.  Wally the Innkeeper was there, waiting.

“What do you want?”  Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture.

“We seek lodging.”

“Seek it elsewhere.”  Wally looked straight ahead but spoke vigorously.  “The Inn is filled.”

“Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain.  We have traveled far and are very weary.”

“There is no room in the Inn for you.”  Wally looked properly stern.

“Please, good Innkeeper, this is my wife, Mary.  She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest.  Surely you must have some small corner for her.  She is so tired.”

Now, for the first time the Innkeeper relaxed his still stance and looked down at Mary.  With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment.

“No!  Be gone!” the prompter whispered from back stage.

“No!”  Wally repeated automatically.  “Be gone!”

Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary and Mary laid her head upon her husband’s shoulder and the two of them started to move away.  The Innkeeper did not return inside his inn, however.  Wally stood there in the doorway, watching the forlorn couple.  His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling unmistakably with tears.

And suddenly this Christmas pageant became different from all the others.

“Don’t go Joseph,” Wally cried out.  “Bring Mary back.”  And Wallace Purling’s face grew into a bright smile.  “You can have my room.”

Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined, yet there were others – many, many others – who considered it the best Christmas of all Christmas pageants they had ever seen.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 19th

December 19th

And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given. 3 Nephi 1:19

Carol: Star Bright

Someone Missing at the Manger

by Elizabeth Starr Hill

It was two days before Christmas and Marcie was troubled. She sat on the floor in the glowing warmth of the fire with a dozen books stacked nearby.  She flipped through one until she came to a manger scene.  In the picture, shepherds had come to visit the Baby Jesus. The Kings were off in the distance, but plainly on the way. A cow and a donkey stood nearby in the stable.

It was just as she had thought. Marcie shut the book with a snap, and picked up another.  The manger scene in this one was a bit different. The Kings were kneeling in front of the crib.  A boy shepherd stood behind them. A couple of cherubs hovered over the shepherds.  But, except for some animals, there was no one else.

Marcie looked through every Christmas book she owned. She found tall and short shepherds, fat and thin Kings, black sheep and white lambs. She found boys with crutches and crooks… But, in each story, someone was missing from the manger. There was no little girl. Not one.

Marcie went into the kitchen where her mother was feeding Kevin, her baby brother. “Mom, when the Baby Jesus was born, how come no little girl went to the stable to see him?”

Her mother paused and smiled up at Marcie. “Oh, of course there were little girls!”

“Have you ever seen a picture of a little girl at the manger?” Marcie demanded.

“Why, I guess not,” her mother answered thoughtfully.  “Unless you count angels.  Some of them look like they might be girls.”

Marcie shook her head emphatically. “You can’t count angels. I mean plain ordinary girls like me.”

“I never thought about it before,” her mother admitted, “but you’re right.  It is odd.”

Later that afternoon Marcie and her mother were finishing up the costumes for the Christmas Play.  Marcie beamed, thrilled by just the thought of the upcoming pageant.  Every year she loved it – the costumes, the lights, the story… and this year they all had a part.  She was the chief costume designer.  Her mother was to be Mary, her father, a wise King, and her brother a shepherd boy.

Deep down inside, Marcie wanted to be the Herald Angel.  Oh how wonderful it would be to be dressed in sparkling white and sing the announcement of the Christ child!  But Marcie new it was not for her.  She could sew costumes, but she couldn’t sing or act.  She was just a plain, ordinary little girl.   Nobody special.  Just a girl who sewed.

But Marcie wouldn’t be troubled with those thoughts for long.  She pushed them aside, and again smiled.  She imagined it was nearly two thousand years ago and that she lived in a little town called Bethlehem as the daughter of a Shepherd.  She daydreamed that she was out with the sheep one night when the angel came and told them of the baby Jesus.  She imagined the brightness of the star, and the peace and reverence of the night.  Then her shepherd father said, “I will bring the Christ child a lamb as a gift.  And what shall you offer?”  Without hesitation, Marcie said out loud, “I’ll bake him some cookies fit for a king!”  Just then her mother’s voice rang into her thoughts “Marcie! Set the table!” and the daydream faded away.

The next morning, Marcie woke up early, bursting with anticipation. It was Christmas Eve.  She busied herself making popcorn balls and stuffing for the Turkey.  In the afternoon, Marcie and her mother wrapped one of Marcie’s favorite dolls in swaddling clothes. The doll was to be the Baby Jesus in the pageant. Marcie felt very proud that her own precious doll was to be baby Jesus.

Everyone’s eyes were bright with excitement, but Marcie’s more than all. She raced upstairs and changed into her red velvet dress and tied red ribbons on her pigtails. Then she hurried to Kevin’s crib to dress him in his snowsuit.  But oh… there was something wrong.  Kevin was covered in bumpy spots.  He was hot to the touch.  Alarmed, Marcie called her parents. Her mother took one look at the baby and groaned, “Chicken pox!”  “I’m afraid so,” Marcie’s father agreed.  We can’t take him.

Frantically Marcie’s parents called all their neighbors and friends, but were unsuccessful.  “We’ve got to get somebody,” Tod said. “We’re late already. And what are they going to do if we don’t show up? What good is a Christmas pageant without the Baby Jesus? And His Mother? And a King and a shepherd?” Marcie swallowed hard. It was true the whole pageant would be ruined without them. But, she thought despairingly, there was one person who would not be missed — who, in fact, was always missing…  a plain, ordinary little girl.

It was hard to say the words. Marcie’s voice cracked as she volunteered, “I’ll stay with Kevin.”

Her mother protested, “No. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to the pageant. There must be something else we can do. But they all knew time had run out. After giving Marcie a comforting hug, her father, mother and brother slipped out the door.

Marcie tried to hold back the tears for a moment, but soon flung herself across her bed and sobbed. She had imagined just how it would be; her mother, so beautiful in the blue robe; her father, every inch a King in scarlet and gold; and Tod, the handsomest of the shepherds. She pictured the angels, her doll as Baby Jesus… And she wouldn’t see any of it. She was going to miss it all.

There was to be a short procession first, around the outside of the church, with everyone singing. Marcie heard the music start. She ran to a window. She could not see the church, but she could hear the singing.. “Silent Night, holy night…” Even from this distance the voices sounded strong and fine, “All is calm, all is bright…” Through the ache of her disappointment, the words touched Marcie’s heart.  It was a calm and bright night. She loved carols and she hummed along as verse after beloved verse followed.

Then the tune changed to Marcie’s favorite, “Oh, come, all ye faithful…”

“I wanted to,” Marcie answered the words to the hymn as if she was speaking to the Baby Jesus. “I wanted to come, I couldn’t, that’s all.”

The chorus continued… “Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation…”  The Church bells then began to ring. The procession was nearly over. Marcie shut the window.   Then suddenly she knew why there were never any little girls at the manger.  Girls were needed to tend the little ones. They could not be spared.  They were need to watch over the little babes, like baby Jesus.  Kevin cried faintly, and Marcie hurried to his crib. And in the frosty Christmas air, the bells rang joy to all the little girls in the world.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 18th:

December 18th

Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I unto the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets. 3 Nephi 1:13

Carol: When Christ Was Born in Bethlehem

Ancient America Views the First Christmas

from the Book of Mormon

I looked and beheld the... city of Nazareth; and in the city of Nazareth I beheld a virgin, and she was exceedingly fair and white. And (the) angel... said unto me: Behold the virgin whom thou seest is the mother of the Son of God, after the manner of flesh.

And... I beheld that she was carried away in the Spirit; and after she had been carried away in the Spirit for the space of a time... I... beheld the virgin again, bearing a child in her arms and the angel said unto me: Behold the Lamb of God, yea even the Son of the Eternal Father! (Nephi, about 600 B.C. 1 Nephi 11:13-21)

And the... angel... said unto me... Behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord Omnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a tabernacle of clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles...

And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; and his mother shall be called Mary.

And lo, he cometh unto his own, that salvation might come unto the children of men even through faith on his name. (King Benjanin, about 124 B.C., Mosiah 3:3-9)

For behold, the time is not far distant that the Redeemer liveth and cometh among his people... And behold, he shall be born of Mary, at Jerusalem which is the land of our forefathers,m she being a virgin, a precious and chosen vessel, who shall be overshadowed and conceive by the power of the Holy Ghost, and bring forth a son, yea, even the Son of God. (Alma, about 83 B.C., Alma 7:7, 10)

And behold, this will I give unto you for a sign at the tine of his coming; for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, insomuch that in the night before he cometh there shall be no darkness insomuch that it shall appear unto man as if it was day.

Therefore, there shall be one day and one night and a day, as if it were one day and there were no night: and... ye shall know of the rising of the sun and also of its setting; therefore they shall know of a surety that there shall be two days and a night; nevertheless the night shall not be darkened; and it shall be the night before he is born.

And behold, there shall a new star arise, such as none as ye never beheld... (Samuel the Lamanite,m about 6 B.C., Helaman 14:3-5)

And it came to pass that in the commencement of the ninety and second year, behold, the prohecies of the prophets began to be fulfilled more fully; for there began to be greater signs and greater miracles among the people.

And they began to rejoice over their brethren, saying: Behold the time is past, and then words of Samuel are not fulfilled; therefore, your joy and your faith concerning this thing hath been in vain.

And it came to pass that they did make a great uproar throughout the land; and the people who believed began to be very sorrowful, lest by any means those things which had been spoken might not come to pass.

But behold, they did watch steadfastly for that day and that night and that day which should be as one day as if there were no night, that they might know that their faith had not been in vain.

Now it came to pass that there was a day set apart by the unbelievers, that all those who believed in those traditions should be put to death except the sign should come to pass, which had been given by Samuel the prophet.

Not it came to pass that when Nephi, the son of Nephi, saw this wickedness of his people, his heart was exceedingly sorrowful.

And it came to pass that he went out and bowed himself down upon the earth, and cried mightily to his God in behalf of his people, yea, those who were about to be destroyed because of their faith in the tradition of their fathers.

And it came to pass that he cried mightily unto the Lord, all the day; and behold, the voice of the Lord came unto him, saying; Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfill all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets.

Behold, I come unto my own, to fulfill all things which I have made known unto the children of men from the foundation of the world, and to do the will both of the Father and of the Son - of the Father because of me, and of the Son because of my flesh, and behold the time is at hand, and this night shall the sign be given.

And it cane to pass that the words which came unto Nephi were fulfilled, according as they had been spoken; for behold at the going down of the sun there was no darkness; and the people began to be astonished because there was no darkness when night came.

And there were many, who had not believed the words of the prophets, who fell to the earth and became as if they were dead, for they knew that the great plan of destruction which they had laid for those who believed in the words of the prophets had been frustrated; for the signal which had been given was already at hand.

And they began to know that the Son of God must shortly appear; yea, in fine, all the people upon the face of the whole earth from the west to the east, both in the land north and in the land south, were so exceedingly astonished that they fell to the earth.

For they knew that the prophets had testified of these things for many years, and that the sign which had been given was already at hand; and they began to fear because of their iniquity and their unbelief.

And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was midday, and it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given.

And it had come to pass, yea, all things, every whit, according to the words of the prophets. 

And it came to pass also that a new star did appear, according to the word. (Nephi, at the time of Christ's birth, 3 Nephi 1:4-21)

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 17th

December 17th

And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. Luke 1:30-31

Carol: I Believe in Christ

The Gift of Love

by Thomas S. Monson

When I was a very young bishop, in 1950, there was a tap at my door and  good German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself as Karl Guertler. He said, "Are you Bishop Monson?"

I answered in the affirmative.

He said, "My brother and his wife and their family are coming from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with me to see the apartment we have rented for them?" On the way to that apartment, he told me that he had not seen his brother for something like 30 years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother, Hans Guertler, had been faithful to the Church - an officer in the Hamburg branch.

I looked at that apartment. It was cold; it was dreary; the paint was peeling from the walls; the cupboards were bare. What an uninviting home for the Christmas season of the year! I worried about it and I prayed about it, and then in our ward welfare committee meeting, we did something about it.

The group leader of the high priests said, "I am an electrician. Let's put good appliances in that apartment."

The group leader of the seventies said, "I am in the floor covering business. Let's install new floor coverings."

The elders quorum president said, "I am a painter. Let's paint that apartment."

The Relief Society representative spoke up, "Did you say those cupboards were bare?" (They were not bare very long, with the Relief Society in action.)

Then the young people, represented through the Aaronic Priesthood general secretary said, "Let's put a Christmas tree in the home and let's go among our young people and gather gifts to place under the tree."

You should have seen that Christmas scene, when the Guertler family arrived from Germany in clothing which was tattered and with faces which were drawn by the rigors of war and deprivation! As they went into their apartment they saw what had been in actual fact a transformation - a beautiful home. We spontaneously began singing, "Silent night! Holy night! All is calm; all is bright." We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion of that hymn, Hans Guertler threw his arms around my neck and buried his head in my shoulder, and repeated over and over again those words which I shall never forget: "Mein brudder, mein brudder, mein brudder." As we walked down the stairs that night, all of us who had participated in making Christmas come alive in the lives of this German family, we reflected upon the words of the Master:

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25:40)

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 16th

December 16th

And behold, there shall a new star arise, such an one as ye never have beheld; and this also shall be a sign unto you. And behold this is not all, there shall be many signs and wonders in heaven. Helaman 14:5-6

Carol: I Heard the Bells

Is There a Santa Claus?

by Francis P. Church

and editorial from the New York Sun

September 21, 1897

Dear Editor:

I am eight years old.

Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.

Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun it's so."

Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

                   

                                                       Virginia O'Hanlan

                                                       115 West 95th Street,

                                                       New York City

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole truth and knowledge. 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginia's. There would be no childlike faith, then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 15th

December 15th

And behold, this will I give unto you for a sign at the time of his coming; for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, insomuch that in the night before he cometh there shall be no darkness, insomuch that it shall appear unto man as if it was day. Helaman 14:3

Carol: Samuel Tells of the Baby Jesus

The Other Wise Men

from the story by Henry Van Dyke

The other wise man's name was Artaban. He was one of the Magi and he lived in Persia. He was a man of great wealth, great learning, and great faith. With his learned companions he had searched the scriptures as to the time that the Savior should be born. They knew that a new star would appear and it was agreed between then that Artaban would watch from Persia and the others would observe the sky from Babylon.

On the night he believed the sign was to be given, Artaban went out on his roof to watch the night sky. "If the star appears, they will wait for me ten days, then we will all set out together for Jerusalem. I have made ready for the journey by selling all of my possessions and have bought three jewels - a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl. I intend to present them as my tribute to the king."

As he watched, an azure spark was born out of the darkness, rounding itself with splendor into a crimson sphere, Artaban bowed his head. "It is the sign," he said. "The King is coming, and I will go to meet him."

The swiftest of Artaban's horses had been waiting saddled and bridled in her stall, pawing the ground impatiently. She shared the eagerness of her master's purpose.

As Artaban placed himself upon her back, he said, "God bless us both from failing and our souls from death."

They began their journey. Each day his faithful horse measured off the allotted proportion of the distance, and at nightfall on the tenth day, they approached the outskirts of Babylon. In a little island of desert palm trees, Artaban's horse scented difficulty and slackened her pace. Then she stood still, quivering in every muscle.

Artaban dismounted. The dim starlight revealed the form of a man lying in the roadway. His skin bore the mark of a deadly fever. The chill of death was in his lean hand. As Artaban turned to go, a sigh came from the sick man's lips.

Artaban felt sorry that he could not stay to minister to this dying stranger, but this was the hour toward, which his entire live had been directed. H?e could not forfeit the reward of his years of study and faith to do single deed of human mercy. But then, how could he leave his fellow man alone to die?

"God of truth and mercy," prayed Artaban, "direct me in the path of wisdom which only thou knowest." Then he knew that he could not go on. The magi were physicians as well as astronomers. He took off his robe and bean his work of healing. Several hours later the patient regained consciousness. Artaban gave him all that was left of his bread and wine. He left a potion of healing herbs and instructions for his care.

Though Artaban rode with the greatest haste the rest of the way, it was after dawn that he arrived at the designated meeting place. His friends were nowhere to be seen. Finally, his eyes caught a piece of parchment arranged to attract his attention. It said, "We have waited past midnight, and can delay no longer. We go to find the King. Follow us across the desert."

Artaban sat down in despair and covered his face with his hands. "How can I cross the desert with no food and with a spent horse? I must return to Babylon, sell my sapphire and buy camels and provisions for the journey. I may never overtake my friends. Only the merciful God knows whether or not I shall lose my purpose because I tarried to show mercy."

Several days later when Artaban arrived at Bethlehem, the streets were deserted. It was rumored that Herod was sending soldiers, presumably to enforce some new tax, and the men of the city had taken their flocks to the hills beyond his reach.

The door of one dwelling was open, and Artaban could hear a mother singing a lullaby to her child. He entered and introduced himself. The woman told him that it was now the third day since the wise men had appeared in Bethlehem. They had found Joseph and Mary and the young child, and had laid their gifts at His feet. Then they had gone as mysteriously as they had come. Joseph had taken his wife and baby that same night and had secretly fled. It was whispered that they were going far away into Egypt.

As Artaban listened, the baby reached up its dimpled hand and touched his cheek and smiled. His heart warmed at the touch. Then suddenly, outside there arose a wild confusion of sounds. Women were shrieking. Then a desperate cry was heard, "The soldiers of Herod are killing the children."

Artaban went to the doorway. A band of soldiers came hurrying down the street. The captain approached the door to thrust Artaban aside, but Artaban did not stir. His face was as calm as though he were still watching the stars. Finally, his outstretched hand revealed the giant ruby. He said, "I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will go on his way and leave this house alone."

The captain, amazed at the splendor of the gem, took it and said to his men, "March on, there are no children here."

Then Artaban prayed, "Oh, God, forgive me my sin, I have spent for men that which was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?"

But the voice of the woman weeping of joy in the shadows behind him said softly, "Thou hast saved the life of my little one. May the Lord bless thee and keep thee and give thee peace."

Artaban, still following the King went on into Egypt seeking everywhere for traces of the little family that had fled before him. For many years we follow Artaban in his search. We see him at the pyramids. We see him in Alexandria taking counsel with a Hebrew rabbi who told him to seek the King not among the rich but among the poor.

He passed through centuries where famine lay heavy upon the land, and the poor were crying for bread. He made his dwelling in plague-stricken cities. He visited the oppressed and the afflicted in prisons. He searched the crowded slave-markets. Though he found no one to worship, he found many to serve. As the years passed he fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and comforted the captive.

Thirty-three years had now passed away since Artaban began his search. His hair was as white as snow. He knew his life's end was near, but he was still desperate with hope that he would find the King. He had come for the last time to Jerusalem.

It was the season of the Passover, and the city was thronged with strangers. Artaban inquired where they were going. One answered, "We are going to the execution on Golgotha outside the city walls. Two robbers are to be crucified, and with them another called Jesus of Nazareth, a man who has done many wonderful works among the people. He claims to be the Son of God and the priests and elders have said that he must die. Pilate sent him to the cross."

How strangely these familiar words fell upon the tired heart of Artaban. They had led him for a lifetime over land and sea. And now they came to him like a message of despair. The King had been denied and cast out. Perhaps he was already dying. Could he be the same one for whom the star had appeared thirty-three long years ago?

Artaban's heart beat loudly within him. He thought, "It may be that I shall yet find the King and be able to ransom him from death by giving my treasure to his enemies."

But as Artaban started toward Calvary, he saw a troop of soldiers coming down the street, dragging a sobbing young woman. As Artaban paused, she broke away from her tormentors and threw herself at his feet, her arms clasped around his knees.

"Have pity on me," she cried. "And save me. My father was also of the Magi, but he is dead. I am to be sold as a slave to pay his debts."

Artaban trembled as he again felt the conflict arising in his soul. It was the same that he had experienced in the palm grove of Babylon and the cottage at Bethlehem. Twice the gift, which he had consecrated to the King had been drawn from his hand to service of humanity. Would he now fail again? One thing was clear, he must rescue this helpless child from evil.

He took the pearl and laid it in the hand of the girl and said, "Daughter, this is the ransom. It is the last of my treasures, which I had hoped to keep for the King."

While he spoke, the darkness of the sky thickened and the shuddering tremors of an earthquake ran through the ground. The houses rocked. The soldiers fled in terror. Artaban sank beside the protecting wall. What had he to fear? What had he to hope for? He had given away the last of his tribute to the King. The quest was over and he had failed. What else mattered?

The earthquake quivered beneath him. A heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck him. He lay breathless and pale. Then there came a still small voice through the twilight. It was like distant music. The rescued girl leaned over him and heard him say, "Not so, my Lord; for when I saw thee hungered and fed the? Or thirsty and gave thee drink? When I saw thee a stranger and took thee in? Or naked and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison and came unto thee? Thirty-three years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered unto thee, my King."

The sweet voice came again, "Verily I say unto thee, that inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me."

A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted up the face of Artaban as one long, last breath exhaled gently from his lips. His journey was ended. His treasure accepted. The Other Wise Men had found the King.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 14th

December 14th

And I looked and beheld the Redeemer of the world... and I also beheld the prophet who should prepare the way before him. And the Lamb of God went forth and was baptized of him; and after he was baptized, I beheld the heavens open, and the Holy Ghost come down out of heaven and abide upon him in the form of a dove. 1 Nephi 11:27

Carol: Who Is the Child

A Boy Learns a Lesson

by Thomas S. Monson

In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I longed for an electric train. The times were those of economic depression, yet Mother and Dad purchased for me a lovely electric train.

Christmas morning bright and early, I thrilled when I noticed my train. The next few hours were devoted to operating the transformer and watching the engine pull its car forward - then backward around the track.

Mother said that she had purchased a wind-up train for Widow Hanson's boy, Mark, who lived down the lane at Gale Street. As I looked at his train, I noted a tanker car which I much admired. I put up such a fuss that my mother succumbed to my pleadings which gave me the tanker car. I put it with my train set and felt pleased.

Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. The young boy was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift. He was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, but not being electric nor expensive like mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and the three cars, plus a caboose, went around the track.

I felt a horrible sense of guilt as I returned home. The tanker car no longer appealed to me. Suddenly, I took the tanker car in my hand, plus an additional car of my own, and ran all the way down to Gale Street and proudly announced to Mark, "we forgot to bring two cars down which belong to your train."

I don't know when a deed had made me feel any better than that experience as a ten-year old boy.

The Twenty-Four Days of Christmas - December 13th

December 13th

And I looked and beheld the virgin again, bearing a child in her arms. And the angel said unto me: Behold the Lamb of God, yea, even the Son of the Eternal Father!... And I looked, and I beheld the Son of God going forth among the children of men; and I saw many fall down at his feet and worship him. 1 Nephi 11:20-24

Carol: O Holy Night

Davey and the First Christmas

by Beth Vardon

Let's pretend there was a boy, and Davey was his name, 

Whose family lived in Bethlehem when Christmastime first came.

Davey had a special pet - a donkey small and gray,

And what the two of them did best was getting in the way!

Davey named the donkey Tim. He never rode him though.

Either Tim was built too high or Davey was too low!

Davey's father had an inn where people came to stay;

And lots and lots and lots of them were coming there one day.

His father was as busy as six or seven bees!

So Davey said, "I want to help, can't I do something, please?

Tim would like to help you, too. Find a job for us to do!"

"Listen, son," his father said, "Last week you broke three jugs.

You scared my two best customers with your pet lightning bugs!

You tracked in mud on my clean floor, you tripped and dropped the bread.

And though I loved the fish you caught - why leave them on my bed?

I've put up with your helpfulness as long as I am able. 

So do me one big favor now, go out - and clean the stable!"

Davey sadly went and stood beside the stable door.

It hardly seemed that anyone could clean that dirty floor.

He and Tim both felt so bad they started to cry - 

But then (thought Davey), "Yes, we can! Well, anyhow - let's try.

First, lets chase those chickens out. That's what we've got to do!

So Tim began to flap his ears while Davey shouted, "Shoooooo!"

The chickens clucked and flew and ducked, they fluttered wild and scary,

Until their feathers filled the air like snow in January.

Yes, Davey chased those chickens out, He and Tim together.

But now he had to get a sack and pick up every feather!

You should have seen how hard they worked! They stacked up all the wheat,

They straightened up the harnesses till they were nice and neat.

They fought with spiders bravely till they chased out every bug.

And since we must admit the truth - they broke another jug!

The very biggest job of all was stacking up the hay.

Davey climbed up to the loft and put it all away.

"Look, Tim. You see how high it is? I'll make just one more trip."

Then clear up by the stable roof his feet began to slip!

Down came the hay and Davey, too. The stable looked so queer -

All you could see was piles of hay - one sandal, and one ear!

Slowly they came out on top, and Davey didn't whine,

Though hay stuck out all over him just like a porcupine!

He put the hay all back again and stacked it up with care -

But left one armload down below to fill the manger there.

So Davey's work was done at last, and when it all looked neat

He picked some flowers to trim the barn, and some for Tim to eat.

"I hope it's clean enough," he thought. "At least I did my best."

And feeling very, very tired, he curled up for a rest...

Who woke up Davey from his sleep? Just guess them if you can.

Mary was the woman's name, Joseph was the man.

Mary said, "Oh, Joseph, look! This is a lovely place!"

Then, seeing Davey there, she said, with such a shining face,

"Your father's inn had no more rooms, tonight we're staying here.

So tell me now, are you the boy who cleaned the stable, dear?

And did your donkey help you work? We want to thank him too."

Though Davey was still half asleep, his heart was glad clear through.

So that is how a little boy, two thousand years ago,

Stayed on to hear the angels sing, and see the Star aglow.

As soon as Baby Jesus came to use the manger bed,

Then Davey's sack of feathers made a pillow for His head.

No one told Davey anymore that he was in the way.

His work had helped get ready for the world's first Christmas Day!