By Jennifer Basye Sander

There is something really magical approximately Christmas. full of amazing real tales of the kindness of strangers and the advantages of spoke back prayers, this assortment with its small miracles really captures the spirit of the season.

These tales of wish, religion and pleasure are a relocating tribute to the real that means of Christmas and remind us all that the best presents in lifestyles cannot be present wrapped.

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Extra resources for A Miracle Under the Christmas Tree: Real Stories of Hope, Faith and the True Gifts of the Season

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This was once to be the 1st Christmas for my first niece. good, it used to be no longer technically her first Christmas. She were born on Christmas Day 365 days past. Robin was once a so much distinct baby, as designated as her day of start. She was once as brilliant and gorgeous and whole of pleasure as Christmas. I had regarded ahead to this, her first actual Christmas, because the day she was once born. a chum who had a truly whole woodworking store had used his jigsaw to chop out the items so i may make a bit maple rocking horse for her. I sanded each floor until eventually it was once gentle as a river rock and each area used to be sanded around. There will be no tough spots or sharp edges on Robin’s rocking horse. I painted it a deep, wealthy pink and extra gains in nighttime black. this may be a different present for this type of excellent little lady. I had labored on it for weeks and couldn’t wait to work out her face on Christmas morning. yet that first Christmas for Robin will be stolen from me. My mom and dad determined to take a iciness holiday to Florida, and that i needed to pick them. i'll stick with my sister, I argued. you are going to pick us, they insisted. The choir is doing a live performance on the shopping mall, I pleaded. they could do it with out you, they replied. yet this can be the place i would like to be, I begged. You belong with us at Christmas, they acknowledged. Their minds have been made up. Florida! No wintry weather. No snow crunching below my boots. No mailman bringing applications to rattle from kin in Chicago or a case of oranges from my uncle in California. No snow angels or toboggans flying down hills or snowball wars. yet most crucial of all, no Robin on Christmas morning. My mom and dad had obtained an outdated bread truck and built it with beds and a camp kitchen. It used to be cumbersome, grotesque and never in any respect cozy. the warmth didn’t paintings good, and the one window used to be the windshield. vacationing far-off cousins and dreary associates alongside the best way, we showered of their houses and slept in our makeshift camper parked of their driveways and yards. every day took us further from the place i wished to be. Robin will be toddling round in new rubber boots, surprised on the gleaming lighting below the eaves, red-nosed within the snow, sledding down the yard hill in somebody else’s lap. we might spend Christmas within the Florida Everglades in a campground bordered by way of palm bushes and surrounded, without doubt, by way of snakes and alligators and overly tan humans in plaid Bermuda shorts and sandals. In my fifteen-year-old’s brain, it couldn’t be any worse. i used to be mad. Madder than mad. and that i acted like your normal indignant teen. I sat within the truck, learn books and wrote dejected letters domestic. I couldn’t write letters to Robin, although. She wouldn’t comprehend what they have been. She may simply recognize I wasn’t there. I by no means regarded out the windshield at any of the attractions. i used to be made up our minds to not take pleasure in one unmarried minute of this depressing journey. I sulked at a medal-winning Olympic point. in some way we’d gotten not on time and located ourselves in a bit city in southern Georgia on Christmas Eve. there have been a couple of humans approximately, however it appeared so overseas to me.

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