I believe in Santa Claus.......

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just
a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her. On
the way, my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she
jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.
I fled to her that day because I knew she would be
straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that
the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of
her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites,
I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted .... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it! That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother,
but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few
moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill,
wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of
everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down."Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat(a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave
me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took
a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95. Author Unknown

I love this story because to me Santa Claus is real, not really in the flesh and blood sense but kind of in he's like the spirit of Christmas. He gives to everyone and expects nothing in return. Like he's the spirit of service, always giving. He's that spirit which is in all of us that gives and has the desire to help others. I guess if you take out the last syllable of "the Spirit of Christmas" you get the Spirit of Christ. Jesus Christ was such a great example of service, always giving something of himself to others, without expecting something in return. In the life of Jesus Christ where was he found? .... Always with the sick, the poor in spirit, the poor and the needy, those that were morning the loss of a loved one. He wasn't with the rich, the famous, those that had everything, although he loved those people just as much. He wants us to help people, give of our time, talents, and help lift those that need lifting. Like the scripture found in D&C 42:38 says: "For in as much as ye do it unto the least of these, ye do it unto me."

I hope we can feel the true spirit of Christmas, now and the whole year, and find time to give to others of ourselves, by helping where needed, giving of our time, talents and even just a happy thought or smile to someone. There are always hearts to be gladdened, kind words to say, gifts to be given, deeds to be done, and souls to be saved. (that last was a quote from Pres. Monson) You never know when you will be the answer to someone's prayers. May the magic of Christmas always be with you and your family.
(I had to give a thought in YW's about service.. and this is what i did... I thought I'd share it) 'And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown!!'

I also love this picture of Mary and Baby Jesus!