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Connie Faust

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Y.O.U. & The Ultimate Life Tool
by Zannah Hackett

Winner of the 2010 Los Angeles Book Festival! What if you could understand a person by just looking at them? What if you knew what to expect from them in terms of perform..  
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Lingering Christmas Memories
by Connie Faust
Monday, December 08, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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I remember when I was just a child, when Christmas came and lingered awhile;  when even after the "big day" passed, Christmas-remembered would make you smile.  Each time you walked into the parlor, it seemed that Christmas came anew.  The tree was draped with silver tinsel, sparkling gaily just for you.  Each lovely treasured ornament had been unwrapped with care, each one placed in the perfect spot so the tree would not look bare.

The blue glass reindeer hung in place, the paper stars were arranged with love.  Each shining ball held memories, with the Christmas angel smiling above.  Your mother was the master trimmer, insisting the tree must be trimmed "just so."  The strands of tinsel must not be thrown, but placed on the branches, high and low, and nestled beneath the finished tree was a snow scene with magical cotton snow.  A mirrored pond glistened like sparkling ice, with ice-skaters gliding to and fro.

And there on a cottony hill nearby, children pulling their sleds climbed high, while others, when they reached the top, piled on their sleds and sped merrily by.  The figures who frolicked in that snowy town had been chosen from a Woolworth's shelf.  No batteries or wires made them perform; just the stories you dreamed up for yourself.  When each little figure was in its place, you watched while sitting on the floor as your mother turned to her favorite task, to honor the Savior she adored.

The wooden stable was the focal point where the Christmas story would live again.  Dear Mary and Joseph were tucked inside, with animals, shepherds and three wise men.  Then she held the sweet baby in her hand, remembering all that the Good Book said, and whispering a prayer of thanks to God, she gently laid Jesus in His manger bed.  The tree stood tall for two weeks or three; there was no rush to take it apart.  Each day, Christmas dreams were re-played for you; sweet memories lingering in your heart.

This is what the LORD says,
"Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is,
and walk in it."
(Jeremiah 6:16A)








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Reviewed by Daniel Keith 12/5/2010
This is so beautiful Connie. May the true meaning of Christmas never be lost. May God bless you every day of your life.

Reviewed by Carol Ekins 12/1/2010
Don't know why I never saw this before. Thank you so much. It is beautiful and there are tears in my eyes. I had forgotten the blue glass reindeer.
Reviewed by Edwin Hurdle 12/11/2008
This is so beautifully written.It made me feel good.I enjoy reading it,take care

Reviewed by Cryssa C 12/9/2008
childhood memories of Christmas hold magic in them... for the true spirit of & peace...are contained therein.
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 12/8/2008
Such beautiful, revered memories that will always last a lifetime and how spiritual wonderful a moment in time it is...

Be always safe,
Reviewed by Paul Berube 12/8/2008
This brought back wonderful memories of Christmas in my childhood Connie. Very much like you described in this write. Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Merry Christmas and God bless.
Reviewed by Elizabeth Price 12/8/2008
I loved all the times I was a shepard in the Nativity play at our church. It really capped off Christmas. Beautiful. Awesome. Liz
Reviewed by Louisa Dobbins 12/8/2008
Oh, Connie, I can remember most of this time. It was the real deal. It is the LOVE OF JESUS in our hearts.
Reviewed by Lois Christensen 12/8/2008
True meaning of Christmas expressd with this write and meories brought back to me of the skaters, the sledding, the manger and all the rest.
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 12/8/2008

Absolutely beautiful, these memories ... alas, that we could return to the true Meaning of Christmas. Well done.

May you and yours be blessed this Christmas, and always, Karla.
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Fourteen Pieces of Gold by Charlene Tess

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