The Book of Christmas Virtues by Jack Canfield Page B

gratitude?
    It’s never too late to show your appreciation to others.
    You could make it quick, simple,on-the-run. Or you can indulge in the full-bodied experience of expressing gratitude until the repetition itself becomes a ritual as natural and rhythmic as brewing tea.
    Pause and plan a way to do it: How can you best acknowledge a thoughtful favor? What can you do to instill delight?
    Take pleasure in the preparation: Give of yourself, your time, your emotions, your energy. Never rush an act of appreciation. Enjoy the process.
    Serve it with a bit of ceremony: Use your best stationery and a fine-tipped pen, or pick the tightest buds from your prized rosebush.
    By elevating gratitude to a virtue, you might discover your own heart warms in the process. So brew a satisfying cup of appreciation and fully savor the serenity . . . sip by tiny sip.

St. Nick’s Note
    As the weatherman promised, the temperature climbs to ninety-eight by midafternoon. I waste no time retrieving the mail from our box.
    â€œWhew! The humidity must be 102.” I collapse into a kitchen chair.
    â€œYou know it!” My husband agrees. He sits with both hands wrapped around a large glass of iced tea, still sweating after mowing the lawn.
    â€œIt’s only July. Aren’t you rushing the season a bit, Santa?” I tease.
    â€œAre you referring to my red nose and cheeks?” He wiggles his bushy eyebrows. “Just getting a headstart on Christmas this year.”
    My jolly old St. Nick delights hundreds of children—of all ages—each December. Whether he’s appearing at schools or in parades, he spreads his special Santa brand of love and kindness.
    â€œAnything important?” He points at the mail on the table.
    Fanning the pile, I hand him a farming magazine, a soil-and-water conservation newsletter and this month’s electric bill. Toward the bottom of the stack, I pause to inspect a small white envelope.
    â€œYou’re not going to believe this.” I turn the letter toward Alan. “It’s addressed to Santa Claus.”
    â€œWell, maybe I’m not so early after all,” he chuckles. But instead of a wish list, he pulls out a hand-decorated card. “Thank You” is scrawled across the front. A trace of moisture washes his eyes.
    â€œRemember these little guys, Mrs. Claus?” He hands me the card.
    Oh, yes, I remember.
    Each year I help Santa make “special deliveries”—for organizations, church groups or even concerned individuals— to single-parent families, the newly widowed, recently divorced, unemployed or those whose income barely covers essentials. These anonymous deliveries from Santa mean more than gifts under their trees or dinner on their tables: These deliveries express love and concern.
    And this card comes from one of those single parents.
    A month before last Christmas, this young mother found herself single and the sole provider for her seven-year-old twins. When she’d escaped her abusive situation, she was forced to leave behind most personal items, including her sons’ bikes. According to a caring counselor at the “safe house,” the distressed woman dreaded explaining to her sons that Santa couldn’t bring new bikes this year. She’d accepted all the help she felt she was entitled to and wouldn’t ask for more. Besides, bikes were a luxury.
    Her friends didn’t agree.
    Because of those friends, Santa and Mrs. Claus delivered quite a load of groceries, gaily wrapped presents— and two new bikes to the grateful mother. Identical blue-eyed, freckle-nosed faces burst into jack-o’lantern smiles a mile wide as they peeked around her skirt.
    â€œOh, my goodness . . . we can’t . . . who are you?” she stammered.
    â€œSanta, of course! And this is Mrs. Claus,” my husband boomed with a wink at the boys. “You made a very special list this year, and we wanted to deliver these