T.D. Jakes’s first Christmas story features a grandmother seeking inspiration from the Bible as she prepares to create a quilt. Grandmother feels as if her life and loves have all passed, leaving her alone to reminisce about the joy of yesteryear and the real Christmases she celebrated. But as she opens her heart to the stories of the Virgin Mary, the truth of what really matters to her comes to light. At the end, she folds up the quilts she has made and ventures off to share their joy and warmth with the children in a local shelter, leaving them with something to keep them physically and spiritually cloaked. With ten life lessons divined from the story of Jesus’ birth, A Christmas Story for Our Times is a charming, thoughtful treat for those who consider the Christmas season to be the most special time of the year. …[Jakes] stitches the story of the Virgin Mary into a modern-day tale that's inspiring and warmhearted…sharp, sassy Lela is the real draw here. And as she stumbles and rights herself, Jakes achieves his purpose: teaching the Bible, gently. -- Kristi Lanier, The Washington Post T.D. Jakes is the founder and senior pastor of The Potter’s House of Dallas, Inc., who regularly appears on national television. The award-winning and New York Times bestselling author of Making Great Decisions , Reposition Yourself , and Let It Go , he lives in Dallas, Texas. Chapter 1 "She's filed," Jean said. "What was that, dear?" Lela Edwards asked, hastily twisting the volume control knob on the clock radio, abruptly quieting "O Come, All Ye Faithful" to an unrecognizable muffle. "'She's filed ,' I said." Phone conversations with Jean were like this -- begun without much small talk. Barely a hello, and she was off with the subject like a sprinter at the sound of the gun. "Darcie filed for divorce," she said, skipping a few beats before she added, "Mother, don't start." "What am I starting? I'm just trying to understand what you're saying," Lela said. Jean sighed. "Darcie filed for divorce yesterday." She said the words slowly, as if reluctant to repeat herself. "I thought you said a few months ago that they were thinking of getting a divorce. Here the child's barely been married a year. Didn't they even try to work things out?" "Mother, I'm just telling you what's going on." Lela brushed away a speck of lint from her blue jersey knit skirt and glanced at the large clock on the wall next to the refrigerator in the long kitchen/dining area. Nine forty-five. She was supposed to leave in five minutes for the Wednesday women's Bible study and here she was hearing news like this. Barbara would be outside honking her horn soon, and nobody wanted to hear that "La Cucaracha" song that Barbara's son had installed in the car. At least she already had her coat on. Jean made a noise, as if aware that Lela's attention had strayed. "She's coming here to Missouri City for Christmas, Mother, instead of what you and she talked about." "She can't pick up a phone and tell her grandmama that?"This was supposed to be the perfect Christmas -- or near perfect. And that meant having all three of her daughters and her -- she had to say -- favorite granddaughter home for the holidays. "Mother, you lecture." "Lecture?" "That's why I'm telling you. Besides...I want Darcie here with me, Mother. She's two months from her due date. This is the last time she can fly here." "She lives in Indiana, Jean. She'd rather fly a thousand miles to Texas than drive here to spend Christmas with her grandmama like she promised?" "Mother...she's feeling vulnerable right now -- " "And that's another reason why the girl don't need to be divorced." She tried to ignore the echo of her own lectures given to the girls over the years, filled with "Don't say don't if you mean doesn't ." "Now she's gonna be a single mother -- " Lela thought out loud. "Tell that to Doug, Mother. He's the reason this divorce is happening right now." "I still don't understand -- " She was interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring the first notes of "Jingle Bells." Lela shook her head, grateful at least that the song had been changed to something less tacky than "La Cucaracha." "That's Barbara. I gotta go. We'll discuss this later." "Mother..." In the silence that followed, Lela suddenly sensed an ocean's worth of words left unsaid or words she wished had been unsaid over the years, washed along by a tide of unmet expectations. She was tired of swimming against the current. "I told you Barbara's waiting." "Have you given any thought to what I suggested last week? About your moving here? The neighborhood's getting bad and -- " "Barbara's waiting, Jean." "Okay. Love you." Yet Jean's words sounded a little reluctant. "Love you too." Lela snapped o the radio, rubbing her shoulder as she stood. "Arthur" was kicking up today. She hoped her arthritis-strength ibuprofen was in her purse. As she headed to the front door