Read The Book of Christmas Virtues for Free Online Page B

and how she always had plenty. Two-Mama made sure her loved ones never left her home hungry, even loading us down with carry-home bags.
    That’s it!
    My Yuletide frenzy evokes memories of Two-Mama’s gift to me. That’s what motivates me! I never felt more loved than there, in her home, knowing in my child’s mind that she’d prepared all this in honor of me. She celebrated me with all those goodies. That was her way of loving.
    I smile at Lee. “I guess now it’s my turn to celebrate my loved ones. It’s my way of loving them.” He squeezes my hand in understanding.
    So, five weeks later, here I am: ten pounds heavier, crash-landed back to sanity. I’m also exhausted.
    â€œY’know,” I admit to Lee, propping my swollen feet on the coffee table, “I’m getting older. I believe next year I’ll skip the candy-making thing.”
    â€œThat’s a good idea, hon.” He winks at me.
    This time, I vow I’ll remain staunch. Immovable. At least until Thanksgiving rolls around, and I hear those first strains, “I’ll be ho-o-me for Christ-maaaas . . .”
    Emily Sue Harvey

Nickled and Dimed
    I was sitting at my desk involved in paperwork one sunny May afternoon when the door opened, and a young boy, about nine or ten, came into the store.
    He walked confidently toward me and said he wanted to purchase a gift for his father. His serious countenance made it obvious: This was a mission of importance.
    As we wound through the furniture division of Loy’s Office Supplies, he expressed dismay at the cost of each chair and lamp. Finally, I suggested a desk-pad set. With eyes glowing, he thoughtfully chose a maroon faux leather unit with matching pencil cup, memo holder and letter opener. His joy nearly matched my own—the whole process ate two hours of my time—and we headed toward my desk to finalize the sale.
    â€œOkay, I’ll be in every week to pay on this for my dad,” said young Michael Murphy.
    â€œAnd you’ll pick it up just before Father’s Day?” I asked.
    â€œOh, no, ma’am. This is for Christmas.”
    My mouth gaped as wide as my eyes when he handed me his first payment: a nickel and two dimes. But that day changed all of our lives at Loy’s.
    As the months passed, neither rain nor snow kept Michael away. Week after week, he arrived promptly at four o’clock every Friday to make his payment. His mother stood outside during each recorded transaction, and one day I asked to meet her.
    From her, I learned that Michael’s father was out of work. She took in laundry and ironing to eke out a living for the family of seven. I felt badly, but I respected their pride and refusal of help. But with the approach of winter, all of us at Loy’s noticed Michael wore only a thin sweater, no matter how deep the snow. We concocted a story about a stray coat left at the store—that just happened to be his size. It worked.
    One day Michael ran in to announce he had a job— bringing in the newspaper and sweeping the front steps for an old lady down the street every day after school. The ten cents she paid each week would bring him closer to his purchase.
    As the holiday season drew near, I feared Michael would not have enough money to pay off the gift, but my boss advised me not to worry.
    Two days before Christmas, a dejected Michael came into the store. He hadn’t earned enough money to make his final payment.
    â€œCould I please take the present for my dad so he’ll have it for Christmas?” His eyes bored straight into my own. “I promise I’ll be in after Christmas to finish paying it off.”
    Before I could answer, my boss looked up.
    â€œWhy, young man, there’s a sale on desk sets today.” He glanced at a paper in his hand. “I think it’s only fair that you get the sale price, too.”
    That meant his dad’s gift was paid for!
    Michael raced