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Santas Helpers

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  • Santas Helpers

    This is too good not to share... (At the end, ask yourself if you are
    > one of Santa's helpers)
    > 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 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 Isuddenly 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.

    > 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!
    WARNING: This e-mail is a suspected phishing scam.
    Courage is just fear that has said it's prayers.

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