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Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I

had cut back on nonessential obligations -- extensive card writing, endless

baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself

exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course,

the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season

for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's

"Winter Pageant." I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the

night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with

his teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the

presentation. All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come

then. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.

So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found

a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several

other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students

were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat

cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform

their song.

Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday

as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial

entertainment -- songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.

So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly

taken aback by its bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens,

red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads. Those in the front

row-center stage -- held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the

title of the song. As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child

would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until

each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message,

"Christmas Love."

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small,

quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down -- totally

unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W." The audience of 1st through 6th

graders snickered at this little one's mistake. But she had no idea they

were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W."

Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued

until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came

over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood

the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place,

why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:

        "CHRISTWAS LOVE"

And, I believe, He still is.

--Author Unknown