A Peek Inside The Spirit of Christmas

An invitation to take a look inside The Spirit of Christmas in this moving story from author Cecil Murphey.

1. Alone and Broke at ChristmasCecil Murphey


I chose to do my first year of college at a small school in southern Texas—sixteen hundred miles from home. Shirley was pregnant with our first child and had complications with her pregnancy. That meant we were unable to travel back to the Chicago area for the Christmas holidays. Even if she had been able to travel, we didn’t have the money.
I went to school on veteran’s benefits. By watching our finances closely, we survived. We regularly ate Kraft’s macaroni-and-cheese mixes, bought hurt cans and marked-down vegetables at the supermarket. Neither of us considered it a sacrifice. In many ways, it was an adventure.
Christmas season began on Tuesday and most of the afternoon the campus was a plethora of people rushing from place to place and cars driving out of the campus. The last students left early Wednesday morning. By Thursday, two days before Christmas, the classrooms were empty. They closed the library and locked the student dorms. No one would return for ten days. In the married couples’ dorm we were the only ones still on campus. We didn’t have a telephone and it was long before computers, so we depended on the postal service for connecting with our families.
I had checked out all the books from the library that I thought I might want during the holiday period. I looked forward to the opportunity to study without pressure.
On Christmas Eve, Shirley and I had a meal that was a mixture of a dented can of corn and an even more dented can of chili. Someone had given us a box of candles that had been “delicately used,” as the person said. Shirley had embroidered my initials on six new handkerchiefs. I had bought her a small bottle of cologne.
The church where we worshipped had a Christmas Eve service and we attended. Normally the church was full, but that night not more than thirty people came to the special service.
Christmas morning would be like any other day except we would have a nicer meal—meat loaf and baked sweet potatoes, food not normally on our diet.
About nine thirty, someone knocked on the door of our two-room apartment. I was shocked that anyone else was on campus. When I answered the door, the man smiled at me. We hadn’t met, but I knew his last name was Willard. He was one of the instructors at the college.
“I heard you two were here for the holidays,” he said.
“That’s right.” I invited him into our kitchen and to one of the four chairs we owned. I offered him a cup of coffee.
“No thanks,” he said. When he came into the room, he had a strange way of walking, almost as if he swayed from one foot to the other.
“I don’t want to stay,” Mr. Willard said. “I’m a bachelor and I want to take you two out for Christmas dinner.”
Shirley could hear us from the bedroom, where she had been lying down. She came into the room and grinned at me as I said, “We’d like that very much.”
“I came early because I didn’t know if you’d be preparing a big meal or had other plans to visit someone or—”
I laughed. “We have no plans.” I would have countered with an invitation to share our Christmas meal, but two small sweet potatoes wouldn’t be enough for three people.
“How about one o’clock? Is that all right?” After we nodded, he said, “I’ll come by and pick you up.”
He was five minutes early and we were ready. He took us to a fine Chinese restaurant. “They’re about the only ones open today,” he said.
I felt genuinely touched that he would take us out for Christmas dinner. We talked and slowly he told us about himself. He was a vet and had lost both legs in combat, which explained the strange way he walked. He shared a sad story about the woman he loved. She couldn’t stand to look at his legless body and broke off their engagement. “It hurt and I loved her,” he said, “but it’s better that she left before we married.”
For almost two hours we sat by the window and talked. I won’t say it was the best Christmas I ever had, but it was a special one.
When we reached our apartment, Shirley was nauseated and hurried inside. I sat in the car and talked with Mr. Willard for a few minutes.
“Thank you,” he said to me. “It means so much that you would spend part of your Christmas with me.”
I invited him to come inside, but he declined. As I walked into the building, I kept hearing his words inside my head. He had made Christmas Day special for us and yet he thanked us.
A few days later I again answered the knock on our door. Mr. Willard was there, this time in his wheelchair and without his artificial legs. One of his army friends had contacted him and they were going to West Texas for New Year’s.
I thanked him again for our Christmas dinner, and he held out his hand to shake mine. As I leaned down toward him, he embraced me and whispered, “You two made this a special Christmas. I was so depressed, I wondered if life was worth living.”
I stared at him and felt the moisture in my eyes. I don’t remember the words between us, but I do remember he pulled me down to his level and embraced me. He released me, backed up his wheelchair, and left.
I never had Mr. Willard as an instructor and I never saw him again. The following year I transferred to the Chicago area. I can’t even remember his first name. What I do remember is how special he made Christmas for a young, impoverished couple. And to make it even more wonderful, he thanked us.
I’ve learned many lessons about Christmas, but this is one I treasure. He gave to us and yet he seemed to get more pleasure out of the giving than we did out of the receiving. That truly is the Christmas spirit, isn’t it?


Copyright © 2011 by Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson

The Spirit of Christmas

A very belated welcome to The Spirit of Christmas, a wonderful sequel to our blog namesake Christmas Miracles.  Inside this merry cover you'll find the same kind of heart-warming stories complied for Christmas Miracles. 

From the publisher: 

The Spirit of ChristmasWith a Foreword by Debbie Macomber 
Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson
St. Martin's Press



A heartwarming collection of true stories that will inspire, entertain, and get everyone into the spirit of Christmas

 

At Christmastime, it’s hard not to get caught up in the shopping, the decorating, the party planning and the family drama—and too we often to lose sight of the true meaning of the season. But sometimes, through God’s grace or a simple twist of fate, we’re able to step back and understand what the holiday is truly about.

The Spirit of Christmas is an inspiring collection of true stories from real-life people who have experienced such moments where the meaning of the season becomes clear and touches their hearts. A man mailing gifts at the post office witnesses a moving scene that changes his life forever. An unhappy couple are drifting further apart…until a special Christmas gift allows them to renew their love and mend their fractured marriage. And a father tries to keep the spirit of Christmas alive for his son with a grand gesture--a gesture that will be remembered by his family and many others for years to come.

Filled with magic, wonder and deep meaning, it’s impossible for these stories not to touch your heart—and fill you with The Spirit of Christmas.

 

To purchase click the link: http://bitsy.me/4ua

Hi, Christmas Miracles family!

 It's been a year since most of you have heard from me, so I thought I'd send a little FaLaLa note and wish you a Merry Christmas.


Yes, there's another reason for this note. Tuesday night, December 14, at 7 CT/8 ET, Cec and I will talk about Christmas miracles on the Cec and Me show. We'll invite listeners to call in and share their own Christmas miracle stories.

The Cec and Me show is online at Toginet radio ( www.toginet.com/shows/cecandme). The call-in number is 877-864-4869. We'd love to hear from you.

BTW--The show is live on Tuesday nights, but it's also available by podcast and downloadable from iTunes. Do you know what that means for you if you call in with a story? It means you'll have access to audio you can use for personal promotion later. Woohoo!

Let me know if you have questions.

I pray your Christmas season is blessed with joy, peace, hope, and sweet surprises.

Twila Belk, the Gotta Tell Somebody Gal
http://www.gottatellsomebody.com/

About The Cec and Me Show
http://toginet.com/shows/cecandme

What do you get when you combine bestselling author Cecil Murphey with Twila Belk, the Gotta Tell Somebody Gal? Cec and Me, that's what!

Here's more of what you'll get:

The inside scoop on what makes Cec tick and stories behind the more than one hundred books he's written. You'll also discover why he's considered a patriarch in the publishing industry.

Special guests who've been impacted by Cec in some way-people who in turn impact others-authors, speakers, pastors, ministry leaders, and maybe even a man who spent 90 minutes in heaven.

A wide range of topics--tough issues, practical helps, encouragement, inspiration, hope, and some fun thrown in for good measure.

The opportunity to call in with your questions and comments.

Tune in to Cec and Me every Tuesday evening, 7-8 CT/8-9 ET.

Christmas Miracles Transformed!

Last year Christmas Miracles was released to a very warm reception.  Today it is currently number 92 on Amazon's list of top inspirational books.  Readers loved this book and wrote about it.

All those great reviews and sales have not gone unnoticed.  This year Christmas Miracles returns in two new forms as an ebook and as a gift book.

In this "Season of Miracles" Hallmark is putting out an abridged version of Christmas Miracles as an inspirational gift book this year.  It has a new cover (see photo) and will be available in Hallmark stores all over the country.  How fun to see CM in your local mall and card stores.

In addition to Hallmark's gift book version, St. Martin's Press has announced the release of Christmas Miracles in ebook form for your Kindle or other electronic reading device.  This version will be complete and unabridged.  The good news is the price--only $2.99 to download your favorite Christmas book.  What a great way to take CM with you wherever you travel this holiday season. 

You can purchase it for Kindle from Amazon or from St. Martin's Press @ http://us.macmillan.com/Book.aspx?isbn=9781429987943

Congratulations to all the contributing authors on the continuing success of Christmas Miracles.

The Latest on "The Christmas Spirit"

If you are one of the authors who submitted a story to "The Christmas Spirit" you can find out the latest information by checking on their web site.  http://www.christmasspiritbook.com/index.html

From the web site:
Thanks to everyone who sent in an entry for this project. We're overwhelmed by the responses we received. We will now review more than 300 entries and decide which stories we would like to put into the book. Of course, our editor has the final word.


We'll make our decision around September 15, and notify all entrants by email.

During the submission process, each entry was acknowledged and placed into our database. If you didn't receive an email of acknowledgment, that means we didn't receive your submission.

Please don't email to check on the status of your submission. We're busy reading, reading, reading.
We appreciate your participation and will be in contact with you soon.

All the best,

Cec and Marley

Don't forget to say "Thank you"

Remember the first thing out of your mom's mouth after opening your presents on Christmas morning? For most of us it was "Tell Uncle Clyde, Grandma, Daddy thank you!" Sometimes we did it joyfully, sometimes with resignation, but saying thanks was the expected reaction after viewing your Christmas loot.

Then there were the "thank you" notes to write for all those great presents that came from family and friends far away. I had a rule for my kids. After Christmas day, no playing with/using the new gift until the "thank you" note was written. It was painful, but my kids learned that a simple "thank you" meant a lot to the person who "gifted" them making the giver feel appreciated and loved. In fact, one of my kids used her stellar ability to pen "thank you" notes in a job for a Hollywood TV show and later at a major university.
Telling people you appreciate them--it's a good thing, as Martha Stewart used to remind us.

Many of the readers of this blog are familiar with their co-author Cecil Murphey. His generosity with his time, talent and resources have touched the lives of many readers and writers, both professionally and personally.

Has Cecil Murphey been a source of help to you in your writing journey? Maybe he encouraged you along the way, provided a scholarship to a writing conference or even used your story in a compilation book.

Perhaps, like me, you're a reader and you've found just what you needed to hear one day while reading a book Cecil wrote or co-wrote. A word of truth encouraging you to keep looking up, God is watching and loving and understanding you just where you are. And maybe it's time to say "Thank You".

June is "Cecil Murphey Appreciation Month". I once read a quote once that said it's not the things we do that we regret the most, but the things we leave undone, the words we leave unsaid. If Cec has touched your life, this would be a great month to tell him so.
Why not take a moment drop Cec a note via his web site or through his assistant,Twila Belk, and tell him what his ministry has meant you? It's a chance to give back a bit of the blessing you've receieved.

Cec's contact page is http://themanbehindthewords.com/contact.html


Finally, just let me say to Cecil Murphey, author extraordinaire:

"Thanks Cec, for letting God use you to bless my life and the lives of so many.

Thank you for not telling God "No" when He changed your directions and put you on new paths.

Thank you for keeping the faith when things turned painful, in the face of physical illness, the loss of your home and so many other hurts no one else will ever no about. You kept trusting and obeying. I'm grateful to God that you did.

Your life and your writing have blessed me, helped me and brought me closer to God.

May God grant that each day you continue your walk and each day you are closer to Him. May your best days be still to come."



To read more about Cecil Murphey Appreciation Month
http://www.yvonneortega.com/blog/?p=108

Writer to Writer--Cecil Murphey's New Blog

Cecil Murphey, well-known author and one of the compilers of "Christmas Miracles" has a new blog aimed at providing expert advice and instruction for writers at any level.

From "The Twila Zone", (via Cecil Murphey's January Newsletter)
"After much prodding, I’m happy to announce that Cec is finally bringing his wisdom gained from years of writing to the blogosphere. This week we launched http://www.cecmurpheyswritertowriter.blogspot.com/.

If you are a writer, you might want to follow Cec’s posts.

When Cec first started writing, he made a double commitment to God and to himself: 1) he would never stop learning, and 2) he would do whatever he could to help other writers. Writers will appreciate Cec's new blog."

Writers, bloggers, authors (published and unpublished), journalists or anyone with an interest in the craft of writing you owe it to yourself to take a look at this wonderful resource.

Exciting New Stories and New Links Promoting Chirstmas Miracles Online

Christmas Miracles was featured on CBN.com Digital Media!

Here are the links with notes from Craig von Buseck, D.Min. Director of Ministries.

"Poinsettias From God will be the top story on the Spiritual Life section of CBN.com on December 18th. It was also be e-mailed as the top story to approximately 15,000 people who receive the Spiritual Life Bulletin e-newsletter.)
http://www.cbn.com/spirituallife/onlinediscipleship/christmas/Twila_Belk_Christmas_Poinsettias.aspx

Miracle in the Storm
http://www.cbn.com/spirituallife/onlinediscipleship/christmas/Harbuck_Gibson_Christmas_Miracle.aspx

My First Christmas
http://www.cbn.com/spirituallife/onlinediscipleship/christmas/Cecil_Murphey_Christmas.aspx

All three stories have been posted to our special CBN.com Christmas page. Here is that link:

http://www.cbn.com/special/christmas/

Thank you again for your help in posting these stories. I know they will be a blessing to our audience. "

"Thank You, Amen" from Christmas Miracles

"Exploitive dermatitis," the doctor said. That was the best diagnosis my husband, Joe, received for his unexplained skin disease.

One night he went to bed and felt quite normal; the next morning he awoke with something broken out all over his body. It looked like a mix between measles, chicken pox, and psoriasis. The strange eruption covered every part of his body from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. As bad as that was, he itched constantly. He scratched himself so much that he had to wear gloves because the ends of his fingers had split open.

We took Joe to the clinic every week, hoping and praying each time that they could explain his skin disease. They tried every available medication on him. Nothing worked.

All through his ordeal, Joe never missed a day of work, and he didn't complain. "It came quickly overnight and it will go away just as quickly," he said several times.
I hoped he was right. I called it Job's disease. In the Bible it says that Job was struck "with terrible boils from head to foot" (Job 2:7.)

We learned about two other men in our area with a similar disease. We wished we hadn't. One committed suicide and they admitted the other to what they called an asylum in those days.

On September 23, 1970, my parents visited to welcome home my medical doctor brother, David, and his wife. David had completed his tour of army duty in Germany.

After an enjoyable evening together Joe stood up. "I'm not feeling well." He excused himself and went down the hallway to our bedroom.

"Liz! Liz!" he screamed not long after that.

I ran toward him. "I'm coming—"

"Get David and come quickly!"

David and I rushed to the master bedroom. David examined Joe quietly and efficiently. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you're having a heart attack."
We arranged for relatives to stay with our three children and rushed Joe to the hospital. At the emergency room, David identified himself as a medical doctor. "My brother-in-law has had a myocardial infarction."

The nurses hurried into action and sent for the cardiologist. They put Joe on a gurney and moved him into the intensive care unit. In 1970, in New England where we lived, they didn't know as much about heart attack patients as they do today. Back then, they normally gave them injections of morphine and watched them closely.

Joe spent several days in the hospital. He was weak. It exhausted him just to have one of us wheel him down the hallway for a shower by the orderly.

Feelings of sadness and fear swept over me. As much as I tried not to, I wondered what I would do without Joe. He was only forty-three years old. As much as I could, I tried to focus on gratitude to God that he was still alive.

There was one bright spot in that terrible ordeal. As Joe had predicted, his skin condition cleared up. Doctors later said the stress had built up inside his body and caused the skin condition. His heart attack was the "breaking point" and released everything inside of him.

After about a week, Joe came home. He slowly began to recuperate. Three months later, on December 9, 1970, Joe suffered another massive coronary—on the fifteenth birthday of our daughter, Jennifer. After an examination at the hospital, the doctor came out to the waiting room. The gravity of his face warned me of the message.

"I'm sorry, but your husband is gravely ill—"
"How ill?"

"He won't make it through the night." As my tears erupted he said softly, "Go home and prepare your children."

I left the hospital. I wasn't emotionally ready to face our three children. I wanted to wait until my two older children, Jeff and Jennifer, were out of school. I'm not sure why, but I stopped and bought an artificial Christmas tree, the kind that comes inside a box.

I picked up Jeff and Jennifer and drove them home, and Jeff immediately assembled the tree and Jennifer started to decorate. While I waited for four-year-old Marley to come home from the neighbors, I went into the bedroom and called a few friends at church. I told them about Joe and asked them to pray.

When I heard Marley's voice, I returned to the children. I took a deep breath and prayed silently for guidance before I said, "Kids, sit down. Your dad's back in the hospital."

Marley, hands on her hips, stared defiantly at me, and asked, "What's wrong with my daddy?"

I knelt in front of her so that we were on the same eye level. "The doctors say that Daddy might go home to be with Jesus tonight." I bit my lip so that I wouldn't cry. I had tried to pray, but I didn't know how. I didn't even know if I should pray for Joe's recovery. That wasn’t the kind of praying we did in our church. We prayed for God’s will to be done. Of course I wanted him well, but was it right to ask God to intervene?

Just then, Marley clasped her hands together and looked toward the ceiling. "Dear God, please make my daddy well. Thank you, amen." She turned around and picked up one of her toys.

Even in my pain, I smiled. I had struggled with how to pray. Our little daughter certainly taught me about prayer that night. She went directly to her source: She made her petition to God; she thanked him before he answered; and she rested positively after her request.

Moved by her simple expression of faith, I relaxed. I couldn't explain it, but Marley's simple prayer changed my attitude. I knew God had heard her. I sat down at the piano and started to play and sing hymns. Between them, I paused to say, "Thank you, God."

Word about Joe spread rapidly through our church group, and several people came to the house to stand vigil with me that night. Their kindness touched me and I told them so. I went back to the piano to play and sing praises to God.

"She's still in shock," I overheard one friend say. Another thought I was in denial about Joe's impending death. It was neither. I told them that God had heard my daughter's prayer.

Joe didn't die that night. The next morning, he was extremely weak, but still alive.
The children and I were allowed to spend Christmas Day with him in his hospital room. We brought a miniature Christmas tree and gifts for him. We were grateful to have Christmas time together.

I had great peace. It came from such a simple thing as a prayer from a child who didn't know enough about his medical condition to understand that her daddy was supposed to die. Marley had enough faith to believe in a God who cared enough to listen to her prayer. A simple prayer, and just as sweetly and simply, she had said, "Thank you, amen."

Joe lived and is still alive today, four decades later. I don't understand what happened and I don't try to explain it. This much I know: A child prayed with utter faith that God would hear her and let her father live and God answered.

(Elizabeth M. Harbuck with Marley Gibson)

Cecil Murphey talks about Christmas Miracles with Moira Brown

Don't miss this interview as Cecil shares from his heart about his life, his writing, and Christmas Miracles.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu1qXlH0L_E

Part 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XMQAud6YVs

Sean's Question by Sara Zinn

I wasn't prepared for our son's question. He was only four years old so it didn't seem that significant. I thought it was cute and laughed it off. Part of the surprise was that we weren't church people and our two sons had had a limited amount of Christian influence. I have no idea what prompted that question.

"When I go to heaven, will you and Daddy come and visit me there?" Sean stared at me and waited for an answer.

When I didn't respond, he asked, "Will you?"

"Yes, dear, you don't need to worry. We'll visit you."

My words satisfied him so he went out to play. At the time I didn't think much about what he asked.

Sean had been born with a heart murmur and doctors told us that many children outgrow the defect. He did everything any other boy of his age did, and he hadn't shown any special religious interest. I would probably have forgotten his insistent question except for what happened just before Christmas.

At a family Christmas party, my husband, Jerry, and I had a delightful time with Sean and his two-year-old brother, Chad. The room was filled with food and laughter. After dinner we had square dancing and nearly everyone tried it, including the children. Relatives snapped pictures. Everyone appeared to be having a wonderful time.

"What's wrong with Sean?" a girl called out.

"Is Sean dead?" a boy asked.

I ran over to where our son lay on the floor. Jerry and I and others tried to rouse him, but Sean didn't respond. Someone called 911. My uncle and others administered CPR. They weren't able to get any response.

This can't be happening to Sean. He's our son and we love him. I hadn't prayed since I was a child, but I silently cried out, God, if you can hear me, please help our son.

In what seemed like an extremely long time, but probably was only minutes, a team of paramedics arrived. They worked on Sean and seemed determined not to give up. One of them used a defibrillator to shock his heart.

One of the paramedics asked about his health history, his doctor, and medication. They rushed him to the nearest hospital. We prepared to follow the ambulance. Just before we left, I rushed over to an uncle, who I knew was a serious Christian, and begged him, "Please pray for Sean."

"I've already been praying," he said. "I'll continue to pray."

At the hospital, a young doctor ran into the room where they had taken our son. Minutes later, the doctor came out to see us. "We're going to try to put in a pacemaker," he said and hurried away. Not long afterward, the same doctor came back out, looked at Jerry and me, and said, "I'm sorry. We weren't able to your save your little boy."

"No, no," I said repeatedly. The tears flowed and I couldn't stop them.

A nurse led us to a chapel where we could begin the grieving process. It felt as though the loss of Sean had sucked the life from my soul. The nurse gave me a tranquilizer and I was able to calm down.

We left the hospital, but Jerry and I didn't sleep much Christmas Eve. The next day the grief hit us. I couldn't stop crying. We sat with family members, crying, talking, questioning, and searching for answers.

Many relatives and friends tried to comfort us, but the one person I most remember was a friend of my aunt named Mary Lou. She came to our house and spent Christmas Day with us. Several times she put her arms around each of us and listened when we talked and held us when we cried. She also prayed with us. She spoke of Jesus as though he was her best friend and was in the room with us.

She let me know that it was all right for me to pray, so I did. I prayed from the depths of my heart. I can't explain in words, but a change came over me. I believed in a loving God and was at peace.

Later on Christmas Day, Mary Lou's husband came to our house. He was kind and gentle and expressed his love. A number of people, many whom I hadn't known, reached out to us. Because of the change that had come over me, I began to think of them as the physical arms of Jesus that enfolded us.

The people in a small church in our town that Jerry and I had avoided for years reached out to us. Through a small-group study and their personal visits, they became a lifeline to us.

Because of their human love, I became convinced of a divine love that understood how I felt. Many times I thought, God watched while his own son died. Surely he could feel the pain inside my heart. Because of the death of his son on earth, my son would live in heaven.

Thirty years later, the miracle of the Christmas season still holds a double meaning for me. That was the time when we lost our son; that was the time we found God's loving son in our lives.

I can still hear Sean's question, "When I go to heaven, will you and Daddy come and visit me there?"

I can answer with complete certainly, "Yes, my precious son, I'll visit you and stay with you in heaven."

Miracle of the Nativity by Tracy Ruckman

December that year appeared bleak. As a newly single parent of two small boys, I worked two jobs to pay our bills. At times, it seemed I earned just enough salary to pay the babysitter, with nothing left over for the basics.

Then it got worse.

In the first week of December, the owners of the store where I worked fulltime decided to focus their energies on their parent store in another town, and planned to close ours within a few days. The same week I received my notice, I had a disagreement with the editor of the paper where I worked my second job. He wanted me to report a false story. When I refused, he forced me to resign.

In one week's time, I lost two jobs—both just before Christmas.

I spent most of my time seeking other jobs, and tried to keep life as normal as possible for the children. The dreary weather matched my mood, and I struggled to stay upbeat for my kids. Their world—my world—depended on me, and I seemed to be failing miserably.

On December 12, I came home from one of my final days at work to find a black trash bag hanging on my front door. I shifted the baby to one arm, and with the other, cautiously lifted the bag from the handle. "Stay back," I yelled at my older son. I had no idea what was inside.

I put the baby down and carefully peeked inside. I laughed at my silliness. Inside was a tiny, gaily wrapped package. We pushed through the door, and I settled the boys on the sofa. "Okay, just sit there and we'll see what this is." I pulled out a package about the size of my hand. A note taped to the box read: OPEN NOW.
I tore off the ribbon and paper and opened the box.

When I revealed the gift hidden in layers of tissue paper, Zach laughed, Jonathan said, "Mooooo," and I stared.

A cow? A ceramic cow? What did that mean?

There was no note explaining the ceramic cow.

Later that evening, I called some of my friends and asked if they had given us the cow. No one confessed, but they thought the whole story was rather amusing.
We put the cow on the table and went to bed.

The next morning, there was another trash bag hanging on our door. This time, the note said DAY 2–OPEN NOW. It was a donkey.

An excited Zach rushed to the door the third morning, ready to add to the barnyard collection. Nothing was there, but later that evening his monitoring of the door paid off because we unwrapped a sheep.

The next morning, a shepherd boy arrived and that's when I figured out what was going on. "Twelve days of Christmas," I said aloud.

That was exactly right. Each day, for the twelve days before Christmas, we received one piece of a beautiful nativity set and it included a stable. The anticipation of each day's arrival seemed to perk us up a bit, and it caused my own focus on the season, and on our lives, to change.

On Christmas Eve, baby Jesus arrived, and our crèche was complete.

Our special gift that year was a turning point for all of us, and we knew God was with us. We enjoyed that nativity for many years.

I found work—one job that paid better than the two previous positions.
But that's not the end of the story.

Seven years later, the boys and I moved to another state to get a fresh start. We faced other trials, too. My father and my grandmother had both been diagnosed with cancer, and their deaths were imminent.

"Only months, possibly weeks away," the doctors told us. We moved into my grandmother's house. She gave us her house and moved into my father's house where my sister, who lived next door, could care for them both. Once again, we began to rebuild our lives.

When Thanksgiving arrived that year, I thought of the hardships we had gone through. If we hadn't had my grandmother's house to move into, we would have become homeless. I seemed to creep through the activities of each day. Our circumstances brought to mind that other Christmas years before. We no longer had our nativity set. We couldn't afford to hire a trailer to move everything, so that was one of the items we left. At Christmas I realized how deeply I missed it.

My godly grandmother died on December 2. I felt her loss to the depth of my being. But I knew she was in heaven, and God carried us through the pain and the tears, and comforted our hearts.

A week after her funeral, I climbed into the attic, looking for possible Christmas decorations. I didn't really feel like putting out anything, but the boys were still young, and it was important for us to honor Jesus' birthday, regardless of our circumstances.

The attic was small, hardly big enough to stand in. It looked as if no one had been up there for years. But there were several boxes, so I explored each one.

When I opened the last dusty one, tucked in a far corner, and saw what appeared to be Christmas things, I closed it and hauled it back down the steps. I set the box on the sofa in front of me and reopened it.

As I unpacked the first piece, tears filled my eyes. I pulled out the objects one by one. By the time the box was empty, I sobbed uncontrollably.

In my hands were all the pieces of a nativity set—identical to the one I'd left behind. I pulled out the familiar cow, the donkey, the sheep and shepherd boy, and the precious baby Jesus. Even the stable was the same.

God was with us. That may sound strange, but the comfort of that crèche made me aware of the love of God for my family and me.

Two days after Christmas, my dad died. That was even harder than the death of my grandmother. Friends and family have asked us how we got through that difficult time. I have only one answer: God was with us.

Now, twelve years since that Christmas, and nineteen since we first received the nativity, I still don't know the identity of the giver. But God used that gift to give us something more—he made his presence known to us, both with the first nativity set and then again with my grandmother's.

That simple crèche made Christmas a reality—twice. Both times I was able to turn my focus away from my life and remember the message of Christmas. Jesus had come into the world and had nothing, not even a bed on which to sleep. By comparison, I had so much.

My treasured nativity scene is an annual Christmas reminder of the meaning of the season. God is with us.

Win This Lovely Christmas Miracles Gift Basket

(Atlanta, GA) Many ordinary people experience Christmas miracles—those special moments during the season of giving and receiving when Christmas becomes more than just a holiday. In Christmas Miracles (St. Martin’s Press, October 2009), Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson share the stories of those who have recognized the special moments that transcend daily experience and transform their lives.

In these stories, people overcome desperate situations through a miraculous twist of fate—all during the most wonderful time of the year. A young boy sits down to read a Christmas book and discovers that his learning disability has vanished. A woman stranded in a blizzard is rescued by a mysterious stranger who she suspects is an angel. And a woman living far from home gets an answer to her prayer in the form of an unexpected gift.

Bestselling author Cecil Murphey says, “We all face discouraging times, whether it's the lack of money, being stuck on a road in a snowstorm, feeling stress, or being hungry and homeless. But God's help is available. I want readers to see that miracles do happen—sometimes simple, unexpected blessings or those that involve the supernatural. We start by asking, and in strange and wonderful ways God tiptoes into our dark nights; we experience renewed joy in life and witness God in action through people and unexpected events.”

Leave a comment for a chance to win the Christmas Miracles gift basket.
Wouldn’t you love to take home this amazing basket filled with Christmas goodies galore? This amazing gift basket contains everything you’ll need to make your Christmas holiday a success. Inside you’ll find a stocking stuffed with hard candies, kitchen towels and oven mitts, seasonal potpourri, holiday-colored candles, stuffed animals that talk, snowman candle, nutcrackers, Christmas ornaments, gift bags, gift tags, gift bows, ornament hangers, Christmas cookie cutters, a Merry Christmas doorstopper, a picture frame, Christmas cards, Santa ear muffs, and not just one, but two copies of Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson’s Christmas Miracles – one to keep and one to give away to someone special.

NOVEMBER 23 IS THE LAST DAY TO COMMENT to be included in the drawing for the gift basket.

A Message from Cecil Murphey, Author of Christmas Miracles

"Getting excited about Christmas?" asked one of four boys who sat behind me on an Atlanta rapid-transit train.
The event took place during the second week of December and one said, "I'm going to get some cool stuff. My dad promised."
A little later, one of them said, "Christmas is the best of time of the year."

As I listened to them, I thought of that last statement that Christmas is the best time of the year. I agreed, but my reasons were different. They focused on receiving gifts. I smiled because that's a nice aspect of the special time of year.

Yet it's so much more. As a serious Christian, my thoughts focused on the origin of the holiday. In a stable two millennia earlier, a peasant woman gave birth to a baby. That infant was God's miracle gift and that child was to bless the entire world.
Look where we are now. Has it come down to nothing but giving and receiving gifts from each other? Surely there is more.

Immediately, my thoughts shifted from gifts to the significance of that special event. It was a miracle. The Bible says Mary supernaturally conceived and that made Jesus' birth a miracle. As I contemplated the word miracle, my mind flitted from one supernatural story in the Bible to another. There were so many and over thousands of years. I easily recalled healings, deliverance from certain death, victory in battle, as well as miraculous food and water supplied. In the first pages of the New Testament we read of the great miracle that God had promised for hundreds of years: the gift of the world's Savior.

The birth of Jesus is a supernatural, unexplainable event. Sometimes miracles involved the convergence of two or three separate events that cynics would call an astonishing coincidence. At other times the phenomenon happened because of the timing of two actions.

But what about today? If Christmas started with the unexplainable, did the time come when supernatural wonders ceased? Do miracles still happen? In pondering those questions, I thought about Christmas in my life and savored the memory of several Yule-season miracles in my own life. I smiled at recalling my first miracle. At a time during my childhood when we were desperately poor, I needed shoes. I asked for black. From a totally unexpected source, I received my black shoes on Christmas day. No one could have convinced me that God hadn’t provided those shoes. Yes, miracles of Christmas still occurred: I had experienced them.

As I left the rail station and walked to my car, I thought, if I've experienced wonders during this special season, surely there are others who can speak of the unexplainable at Christmas.

In that moment, the idea was born: I would invite other writers to share their miracle stories of the holy season and put them in a book. I teamed with Marley Gibson (who contributed two stories) and we edited every story to give it a unified tone. The book would be our way to proclaim divine love to a fractured, hurting world. It would also remind us that God answers prayer, even in some of the most desperate situations.

Cecil Murphey
http://www.themanbehindthewords.com/

From contributing author Geni White

I'm doing a book signing tomorrow (Nov. 14) at a bazaar for the Camp Fire Girls. I'm really excited about this.

Every other Wed. I go to our hospital's cancer center for chemotherapy. When the beautiful postcards arrived, I gave one to every staff person there. Now they say, "We know someone famous!"

I tell them, "Not really", but now I'm always greeted by name when I arrive. SO fun.

My brother also has a story in the book, but he's shy, so he gave me half of his postcards. I've had a delightful time passing all these out.

I bought forty copies of the book and am giving one to each person who's been involved in my cancer care! What a joyful thing for me!

Thank you to Cec, to Marley and to St. Martins Press for creating such a lovely, well-written book.

Geni White, RN, MS

Contributor of 'Hunger at Christmas

http://geniwhite.typepad.com/a_candle_in_the_dark

Psalms 90:17 Establish the work of our hands, O Lord

Christmas Miracles

Celebrate the season of hope and miracles with these inspiring true stories that will warm the heart and touch the soul…

A man lies gravely ill in the hospital on Christmas when he hears angels singing and immediately makes a full recovery. A little boy with dyslexia sits down to read a Christmas book and realizes that his disability has vanished. And a woman’s faith is renewed by the chance discovery of a simple nativity set.

Many ordinary people experience God’s grace during those special moments when Christmas becomes more than just a holiday, but a time for miracles. Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson bring you the real-life stories of everyday people who have experienced these life-changing moments of hope, comfort, and transformation—all during the most wonderful time of the year.
Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Miracles-Foreword-Author-Minutes/dp/0312589832

Author Cecil Murphey

Cecil Murphey has published 108 books, fiction and nonfiction, with publishers such as: Penguin Group (Berkley Praise), HarperCollins, WarnerFaith, Kensington, Zondervan, Thomas Nelson, W Publishing, Bethany, B&H, Fleming H. Revell, Baker Book House, and InterVarsity Press.

His 90 Minutes in Heaven (Revell) which he co-authored with Don Piper has been on the New York Times' best-seller list since October 2006. The book has sold nearly four million copies, is on CD, large-print editions, and in 28 languages including Spanish. 90 Minutes in Heaven was picked up by four book clubs, and has been a big seller at Wal-Mart, Air Host, Books-a-Million, and K-Mart. The follow-up book, Heaven is Real (Berkley Praise) was released in August 2007, with an initial print run of 195,000. The book was selected by two book clubs, and by the second week was #13 on the NY Times' How-to, Advice extended list.

His Touchdown Alexander: My Story of Faith, Football, and Pursuing the Dream (Harvest House), co-authored with Seattle Seahawks running back and NFL MVP, Shaun Alexander, received the 2007 Retailer's Choice Award.

I Choose to Stay (Kensington), which he wrote for Salome Thomas-EL, was condensed in Reader's Digest. Arnold Schwarzenegger wrote the foreword to the book. Actor Will Smith wrote the foreword to the follow-up book, The Immortality of Influence (2006). Four book clubs have selected The Immortality of Influence. Black Issues Book Review magazine selected The Immortality of Influence as their top pick for 2006.

Murphey has earned a masters degree in education and another in theology. He completed one year of work on a Ph.D. In 2006, he received an honorary D.Litt from Richmond Virginia Seminary for his "distinguished service in the field of literature."

He taught elementary grades for 3 years; did extensive teaching of church leaders in Kenya for 6 years; taught part time at Beulah Heights University for 18 years; and in more than 200 writers conferences. Since 2003, he offers four mentoring clinics each year in various cities.

He received the first annual Lifetime Achievement Award from the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association for his contributions to publishing, 2007.

He received 3 nominations for the Gold Medallion and was the 1996 winner for his co-written autobiography of Billy Graham's son, Rebel With a Cause (Nelson).

He also received the prestigious Author of the Year award for nonfiction 3 times (the most ever received by one author) from the Dixie Council of Authors and Journalists.

Murphey received the Silver Angel Award for Excellence in Media (print medium) in 2004 and in 2005.

His tag line is "The Man Behind the Words" and his website is http://www.cecilmurphey.com/.
Since 2001, he has been a panelist on TheWritersView, a moderated, online, professional writers' group with about 1,600 members.

His monthly newsletter has approximately 7,000 subscribers.