The holly and the ivy, When they are both full grown, Of all the trees that are in the wood, The holly bears the crown. The rising of the sun And the running of the deer, The playing of the merry organ, Sweet singing in the choir.

The greatest Christmas gift can’t be purchased in a store, ordered from a catalog, wrapped in a pretty package with a fancy bow… but it can be seen in the eyes of a child, heard in the words of kindness and felt in the embrace of a friend.

Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All else is outward display so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn’t the holly, it isn’t the snow. It isn’t the tree not the firelight’s glow. It’s the warmth that comes to the hearts of men when the Christmas spirit returns again.

The Christmas spirit that goes out with the dried-up Christmas tree is just as worthless.

God rest you merry, gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay.

Until one feels the spirit of it, there is no Christmas. All else is outward display, so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn’t the holly, the snow, the tree, not the firelight’s glow. It’s the warmth that comes to the hearts of men when it returns again.

About all you can do is dream of a white Christmas, for it seems like it always leaves most of us in the red.

Peace on earth, the quiet wish of every heart, the focus of each prayer, is that this season be the start of goodwill everywhere.

Be naughty and save Santa the trip.