Indeed that was good. Thank you. Yis

-----Original Message-----
From: diana roller <[email protected]>
Sent: Sunday, December 21, 2008 1:53 AM
To: AAAAA <[email protected]>
Subject: [Chihuahuas] Too good not to share !



This is too good not to share...  
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 day my big
sister dropped the bomb: "There is noSanta 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. Iknew 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 whoon 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 whatGrandma 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.   

 
May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that
 care. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!




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