The Book of Christmas Virtues Read Online Free

more novel Noel. We can scale back in order to really “savor the season.” Instead of trying to do so much, what if we focus on the traditions we value and eliminate the rest?
    Consider making a personal list of your typical holiday activities. Include everything from addressing greeting cards to sewing matching red pajamas to unpacking crates of decorations. Think about each item.
    What makes your children groan?
    What makes you groan?
    Are there any particular activities your family has out grown? What could be done during another season instead? (Perhaps opting to decorate sugar cookies for Valentine’s Day or waiting to mail annual newsletters as a New Year’s Day event.)
    How can some activities be simplified? (Maybe donating to charities in lieu of gift giving, shopping via the Internet to avoid the mall throngs or entertaining in the post-Christmas lull rather than at the height of the season.)
    Now, make a second list of holiday activities you wish you could do. It might mention things like romping in a new snow or curling up to reread the old, familiar Christmas story—straight from the Bible. Participating in the community’s resounding rendition of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” or leisurely lunching with a dear friend. Playing the role of robed shepherd in a live nativity or sipping nutmeg-freckled eggnog in front of the fire. Watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas with the whole family or taking a solitary walk under a star-studded sky. Attending a local charity event with your spouse or stringing popcorn and cranberries with the grandkids.
    Prioritize the items you’ve chosen to keep with those you’ve decided to add . Be certain there is a healthy balance between self, family and others. Above all, see to it that your list is short. Compact. Simple.
    Now, slow down and enjoy each event. Savor it to the fullest. Linger over it. Then—learn to linger longer.
    And tuck this among the gifts you give yourself and your loved ones this year: simplicity.

Tending the Home Fires
    Our hardworking parents always did their best to provide memorable holidays for their family of seven.
    Weeks before Christmas, my father pulled double and even triple shifts at the cement mill to make sure there would be presents under the tree. Coated in ashes and soot, he’d drag into the house each night, bone-weary from cleaning out smokestacks. Besides one full-time job as city clerk and another one mothering us, Mom did all the things necessary back in the 1960s to make our budget stretch: sewing clothing into the wee hours of the morning, mending hand-me-downs, packing school lunches and laundering cloth diapers.
    Even so, my parents emphasized the memory-making moments: designing elaborate macaroni ornaments to decorate the tree, hanging dozens of cheery greeting cards from loved ones around our bedroom doorframes, and singing carols as we hauled aging boxes of decorations from the basement to the living room. In mid-December, Mom gathered her baking sheets, her huge wooden rolling pin and her kids to spend an entire day in the cramped kitchen baking and decorating sugar cookies.
    And she always delegated one duty to me.
    Because our scant living room had no fireplace to hang stockings, we used a cardboard-kit substitute. It was my job to assemble it each year, that special place where Santa would soon leave his few presents for us.
    Against one wall, I unfolded the fireplace front. Then I placed and balanced the black cardboard mantle that bore wounds from dozens of punctures where we’d thumb-tacked our stockings during holidays past. After I inserted a red lightbulb into the hole near the metal spinner, I plugged in the cord so the logs would “burn.”
    Satisfied at last, I settled to the floor in my favorite nook across from the fireplace—directly in front of a furnace vent. I knew the warm air blew from the basement, but in my mind, the heat spread from the