Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas by Jack Canfield

Parisi.

Love for Tots
    C hristmas, my child, is love in action.
Every time we love, we give. It’s Christmas.
    Dale Evans Rogers
    On a late November day, my family went to see the play, A Christmas Carol. We were just loading into the car when I blurted out, “I feel bad for all those poor children who don’t have what we have for Christmas.” I was surprised by my own words. Why had that picture of little, sick Tiny Tim popped into my head?
    â€œYou are right, Lynnea. Many people don’t have all the holiday presents and merriment that you have.” My papa obviously agreed with my statement. I thought all about what had just happened the whole ride. When my mama and papa told me they were cutting down on the presents, why did I feel bad for myself when others didn’t get anything?
    After I’d thought about the situation for about a week, I was very happy for the weekend to come. I sped down the stairs into the basement. I dug around in an old hamper and pulled out a scruffy brown teddy bear with a plaid bow around its neck. I smiled wide, admiring the toy. If I can make a difference this Christmas, this is it! I thought, holding the fluffy teddy bear in my arms. I skipped upstairs and explained my planned good deed to my mom. I saw a twinkle in her eyes.
    The next week, my mom took me to the local mall. I rode the escalator with glee and excitement. I couldn’t wait! When we arrived at a small table draped in a white cloth, a man dressed in a military uniform greeted us. He was a bit stiff, but kind. He pointed to a golden box labeled “Toys for Tots” in big red letters. I placed my teddy bear in the small pile of toys. I knew I was doing something right, and my heart was filled with warmth. I smiled at the man, grasped my mom’s hand, and walked away. I thought about a child suffering from poverty. Her eyes would glitter as she looked at the teddy bear—the glittering eyes of sheer joy, happiness, and thankfulness.
    Lynnea Bolin

Tree of Thanks
    G ifts of time and love are surely the
basic ingredients of Christmas.
    Peg Bracker
    â€œHow can we honor your teachers this year?” I asked my two young daughters one cold December morning. As a way to teach them to show appreciation, I always involved my kids in making and giving a Christmas gift to their teachers.
    â€œLet’s bake some cookies,” my older daughter, Lynsey, piped up.
    â€œYeah, we can decorate them in pretty colors,” chimed in little Laura.
    â€œThat’s a nice idea, girls,” I replied. “What about something different? Maybe something very unusual.”
    â€œI like my teacher,” Laura declared with a big grin revealing her lost front tooth.
    â€œGood,” I affirmed with a pat on her back.
    â€œCan we make my teacher a handkerchief?” Lynsey asked.
    â€œWell, that’d be special,” I said, “but I don’t know how to sew or embroider. I’m a better cook than a seamstress.”
    â€œWhat can we bake, Mom?” Laura asked.
    â€œHmm, what do you like to eat?” I asked.
    â€œThose crunchy, sticky bars!” they yelled together.
    â€œOh, when I mix the marshmallows and rice cereal?”
    â€œYeah, they’re so good!”
    Instead of making the standard bars, I suddenly thought, we could shape the mixture into a cone so it looks like a tree. Then, we could decorate with gumdrops, string licorice, and red and green sugar. “Hey, girls, what if you help me melt the butter and marshmallows?”
    â€œYeah! That’d be neat, Mom,” Lynsey agreed. She and her sister began dancing around the room like drops of water in a hot skillet.
    Through the clang of metal cookwear, we dragged out a round, deep pan. Then Lynsey retrieved the butter, marshmallows, and vanilla, while Laura found the green food coloring, multicolored sprinkles, and cereal. Instead of the traditional rice cereal, I wanted to use something round