In a world where presents are priority, the Christmas season often becomes a season of dread. We dread the shopping. We dread the cooking. We dread the office parties, and in this dreadfulness, we can forget why we're celebrating in the first place!Christmas is a time to celebrate Love come down.Do you remember, or has a man in a red suit shoved that baby to the back of the stable?In Heart of Christmas, Rona Swanson shares true and heartfelt tales that reflect the meaning of the season. For years, Swanson inspired the people around her with her Christmas stories. She now reaches out to you with stories full of sorrow and joy, laughter and love, meant to remind all of us that Christmas is a time for celebration, not tribulation.When we were children, Christmas was a time of wonder. Regain that wonder, sweetness, and hope with the help of Heart of Christmas. Share these stories with your family around the fire, and seek the One who tugs so heavily on our hearts in the holiday season of peace and joy. Rona Swanson is a storyteller. She is the author of Fruit in its Season, and now, Heart of Christmas. Through her stories, she wants readers to reach that childlike feeling of holiday joy, so often overlooked in the hustle and bustle of Christmas. She lives with her husband in Visalia, California, and she is lovingly devoted to her children, grandchildren, friends, and community. Heart of Christmas By Rona Swanson CrossBooks Copyright © 2010 Rona Swanson All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4956-1957-1 Contents Coming in from the Cold, Farm Boy, Costa Rica Connection, The Touch of Christmas, A Home for Christmas, I have no gift to bring. ..., I'll be Home for Christmas, Loved ones gathered near, A Mother's Heart, Phu Bai Christmas, Golden Stars, Riches Beyond Measure, Heart Songs Singing, Love Came Down, A Cup of Cheer, Only Love, Do you see what I see?, Love So Amazing, This won't last forever, you know ..., CHAPTER 1 Coming in from the Cold I don't know why Christmas always reminds me of Lester, maybe it's the snowy scenes and the cool air ... but Lester was the poor kid in my 3rd grade class in Grand Island, Nebraska. Poor as in NO money! He had about 9 or 10 brothers and sisters and they lived out in an old brick building that had been a country school house many years before. Sometimes kids at school picked on him, making fun of his coat that was 2 sizes too big and already worn out. Lester stuttered when he talked and sometimes the other kids would yell out, "L-l-l-lester!" when he came out of the classroom at recess. It bothered me and I told Mom about it. She said, "Why don't you see if Lester can come over for a visit after school on Friday? Tell him we'll give him a ride home when it starts to get dark." I thought it was a great idea and told Lester about it the next day. "You mean it," he said. "I'm sure I can!" That was Tuesday. On Wednesday Lester asked me if we were still going to go to my house on Friday. I said yes. On Thursday Lester asked if we were still going to my house. I said YES! And on Friday morning he asked me if we were still going to go to my house after school. I said YES! We walked home from school. We made snow angels across the unmarked snow on the V.A. hospital grounds and tried to make just one set of footprints the rest of the way by following in one another's tracks. When we got to our house, Lester acted almost afraid to go in. I had always felt like we lived in a regular neighborhood, but Lester made me feel like a princess about to enter the castle. Mother heard us stomping the snow off of our boots on the porch and opened wide the door. "You must be Lester," she said with a warm smile. "We're so glad that you could come for a visit." She held out her hand and Lester shook it vigorously. Mother laughed, a warm rippling sound that put everyone at ease, and it worked its charm on Lester. We went into the house and shed our mittens and coats. "Put your papers on the dining room table," Mom called from the kitchen. I led the way and was shocked to see the dining room table all decked out. Mom had brought the bright red linen tablecloth laid out with a plate full of party cookies and little favor cups filled with fancy Christmas candies. "Wow, Mom," I called. "who's coming over?" "Lester, of course," Mom replied. She walked in, wiping her hands on her apron. She leaned forward and tousled Lester's hair. "How was school today? Did you bring home any papers?" Lester nodded his head and held out his work. Mother admired his drawing and commented on his beautiful choice of colors. There was a tattered cardboard box among all of his things. "What's this, Lester?" Mom asked. "Is this where you keep your pencils?" "No," he said in a husky voice. "It's my cards." "Can I look?" Mother asked. "Yep," Lester replied. The box held 25 greeting cards. They were birthday, get well, an assortment. But they were worn at the corners and smudged with d