My home, set deep in a forest of trees, seemed especially empty that night, and I nearly succumbed to despair. Then I got hold of myself, pulled out the piano bench, and began playing and singing Christmas carols. It was a choir of one, but since there was no congregation to take offense, the services went quite well. And then, finally, I turned for consolation to first sources. I read Nephi's sorrowful, urgent prayer as the faithful watched for the sign of the Savior's birth while the faithless taunted and threatened them. And I thought how he must have rejoiced when the Lord answered him, saying, “Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world.” (3 Nephi 1:13.) The reason for his coming, and the reason why Christmas means what it does to us, the Savior himself announced thirty-three years later in the dense stillness that followed broad destruction and mourning: “Behold, I have come unto the world to bring redemption unto the world, to save the world from sin.” (3 Nephi 9:21.)

  I remember feeling less lonely, though still a bit shaky, as I crawled into bed that night. But ever since, I have had the impression that I crossed a line in those hours that I will not have to cross again. Each succeeding Christmas, though scarcely a match for the joyous seasons of my youth, has confirmed the gloriousness of the Savior's announcement to the Nephites, and the value of many hearts acknowledging it together.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

  Clement C. Moore

  ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

  The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

  In hope that ST. NICHOLAS soon would be there;

  The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

  While visions of sugar-plums danced through their heads;

  And Mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

  Had just settled brains for a long winter's nap,—

  When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

  I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter;

  Away to the window I flew like a flash,

  Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

  The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

  Gave the lustre of midday to objects below;

  When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

  But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

  With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

  I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

  More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

  And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

  “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

  On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

  To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

  Now, dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

  As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

  When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

  So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

  With a sleigh full of toys—and St. Nicholas too!

  And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

  The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

  As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

  Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

  He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

  And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot!

  A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

  And he looked like a pedlar just opening his pack;

  His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

  His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

  His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

  And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

  The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

  And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

  He had a broad face, and a little round belly,

  That shook, when he laugh'd, like a bowlful of jelly.

  He was chubby and plump; a right jolly old elf;

  And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself.

  A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,

  Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

  He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

  And filled all the stockings—then turned with a jerk,

  And laying his finger aside of his nose,

  And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

  He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

  And away they all flew, like the down off a thistle.

  But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

  “Happy Christmas to all! And to all a good night!”

  THE GREATEST GIFT

  Elder Dallas N. Archibald

  The cold, brisk morning air of winter instantly turned Ron's breath into a small cloud of vapor and made his skin tingle. He'd left his coat inside when he stepped onto the back porch of his home. For a few minutes he wanted to be by himself and think, and the change from the warmth of the house to the crisp, frosty air outside was invigorating.

  Dawn was just beginning to break and he could see, silhouetted by the light on the horizon, the dark shapes of the pine trees along the back fence. His friends and neighbors continually kidded him about his devotion to those trees, and always he explained that these weren't ordinary pine trees. They were Christmas trees, home-grown, and with an eternal purpose.

  His only child, Nancy, had been born on the tenth of December, just fifteen days before Christmas. Early the next spring, as soon as the ground thawed, Ron planted a small blue spruce in the far corner of the backyard beside the fence. Before that, though, he had done some research, talking with forestry experts and even making a special trip to a nearby university. It was with this newly obtained knowledge that he selected the blue spruce, which, in accordance with the climatic conditions of his area, would be the right size for a Christmas tree in a little less than eight years. Armed with soil-test kits, proper nutrients, equipment for shaping, and, most important, a theme from the scriptures, he had put in the first tree. And each year afterward for six years another seedling had been planted. In this way, Ron had initiated his own special Christmas tradition.

  On Nancy's eighth birthday, Ron took the afternoon off from work and went home early. Bundled up in winter clothes he, his wife, Mary, and Nancy had gone to the backyard. There, as a family, they had cut down the first of the seven trees planted in an evenly spaced row along the fence. They cut the tree just above the bottom few branches because, Ron explained, one of these branches would curl up toward the sun; seven years later, when Nancy turned fifteen, it would be the Christmas tree for that year.

  Both Ron and Mary knew that children, like pine trees, need proper soil, proper nutrients, and proper shaping both spiritually and temporally. This was one of those shaping, teaching times—an especially important one, as Nancy was preparing to be baptized. Ron felt a ruffle of excitement inside. He'd waited eight years for this day.

  After the tree had been secured in its stand and placed in its holiday location in the living room, Ron began. “Nancy, stand back and tell me what you see.”

  With a squeal of delight and youthful joy she replied immediately, “A pretty tree, Daddy.”

  “And what did Father Lehi see first in his dream?”

  She thought for a moment this time before answering, “A pretty tree.”

  “Go and get the Book of Mormon from the bookshelf,” he suggested, “and as we decorate the tree let's see what comparisons we can make.”

  As the family took turns reading from chapter eleven of First Nephi, Ron pointed out that Nephi, through the assistance of the Spirit, had seen the Christmas story in a vision. Nephi wanted to see the same things his father, Lehi, had seen in the dream, and an angel had opened the understanding of heaven to him. After he was shown the tree his father had seen, Nephi expressed a desire to know the interpretation of this vision. In response he was taught of the birth of the Savior. The angel then asked Nephi if he now knew the meaning of the tree in his father's dream, and Nephi answered, “Yea, it is the love of God.” Years later another disciple of Jesus Christ, John, would say, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son.” (John 3:16.) The love of God for us is represented in his Son, Jesus Christ, Ron explained.

  The rod of iron, which is the word of God as contained in the holy scriptures, and also the words of the living servants of God on this earth, will lead us to the fountain of living waters, or to the tree of life, which represent the love of God.

  Jeremiah was told that the Lord is the fountain of living waters. (Jeremiah 2:13.) The fountain of living waters, the tree of life, and the love of God are all symbolic of Jesus Christ. Later, when Nephi was instructing his brothers, he told them that the tree of life with its precious fruit “is the greatest of all the gifts of God.” (1 Nephi 15:36.)

  After this discussion, Mary gave Nancy a set of scriptures and a picture of the prophet to put beneath the tree. In this way they would be reminded that these are the iron rod that leads to the tree of life—the Savior. Ron explained that the green of the tree represented the hope of eternal life, hope that comes from the Savior and his atonement.

  As the family strung the multicolored lights through the tree branches, Ron spoke of the light of Christ. Everyone has it to bring them to the truth, he said, but after her baptism Nancy would enjoy an increase of that light. By the laying on of hands she would receive the gift of the Holy Ghost; then, as long as she was worthy, the Spirit would be her constant companion to protect her, to guide her, and to testify to her of Jesus Christ.

  As Ron and Mary, with Nancy's help, hung round, red ornaments on the tree, Ron talked about the blood of Christ, which was shed for our sins so that we through our faithfulness could be cleansed and purified and one day return to the presence of God and have eternal life. The red ornaments on their tree were a symbol of the Atonement.

  Although there would be angels and stars in other Christmas decorations in their home, the top of their tree would display something different. That last adornment was a beautiful red bow with flowing tails of red ribbon. Through this they would remember that the tree of life—the Savior—and his atonement are the greatest of all gifts.

  That first year, the decorated Christmas tree was like an invitation to have the Savior in their home, and in the comfort of its soft colored lights the family spent many special moments discussing Nancy's baptism, which took place the first Saturday in January.

  The next day, for the first time as an official member of the Church, Nancy partook of the sacrament in remembrance of the Savior and his sacrifice. Monday night in family home evening, the family dismantled their “tree of life” and put the decorations away until the next December 10.

  Through the years thereafter, Ron found great solace in the row of seven pine trees, each in a different stage of growth. In moments of challenge and of joy, he received spiritual encouragement from them. He worked to nurture and shape the trees knowing that each one, year after year, would play an important role in bringing thoughts of the Savior and his atonement into Christmas.

  The morning light was brighter now and the snowy yard glistened. Ron had stayed on the porch longer than planned. Today, later in the afternoon, Nancy would be home from her college classes. The three of them, he and Mary and Nancy, would be together once again. He looked toward the fence. The tallest of the pine trees this year was the last one in the row. Almost twenty-one years had passed since he had planted the first. From that planting he had gained another cutting by redirecting a lower branch. Seven years ago he had torn up that stump and planted a new tree in its place. Now it was time to cut the last of the original seven, and next spring a new seedling would be planted in its spot.

  Over the years, Ron and Mary had sought the guidance of the Spirit, praying that their shaping and nurturing would give Nancy the proper direction in her life to bring her to an active knowledge of the Savior in applying his teachings. This evening they would again decorate a tree and review the account of Nephi. And again, as when she was eight, the discussions would be in anticipation of an event that was soon to be. Her mission application papers had been forwarded to Salt Lake City by the stake president and hopefully, before the first Saturday of the new year, she would receive her call from the prophet of the Lord to go and teach others of the tree of life and its precious fruit.

  The winter air suddenly made Ron shiver. He turned and opened the door. It was time to go to work, but he would be back home a little early today. It was Nancy's birthday— time to begin Christmas again.

  IN THE SPIRIT OF CHRiSTMAS

  Hannelore Janke

  This was not the time to be sad. Next month I'd be turning twelve; it was time to give up dolls anyway. As I carefully folded the doll clothes I had sewn for Lilo, I realized that we had hardly played together these past six months; maybe we wouldn't miss each other too much, especially since she was going to get a new mom for Christmas.

  Lieselotte, Lilo for short, was neither the prettiest nor the biggest of my dolls. She didn't even have real hair. But Lilo was the only doll that had survived the war with me. In fact, it was her size, about ten inches, and her plainness that had saved her life.

  When the approaching Russian troops had forced us to flee our home in West Prussia, in January of this year, 1945, we could take only a few belongings, such as a change of clothing— whatever would fit into our knapsacks. It still surprises me that Mom let me stuff Lilo into the little space I had left on top of my pack. It also still surprises me that Lilo didn't get lost in the commotion of overfilled trains and crowded refugee camps. Many children became separated from their families in those days, but Lilo and I arrived together in the small town in central Germany that was to become our new home.

  We stayed in this last refugee camp only four days, and then all five of us—Mom, my two younger brothers, and Lilo and I—were given a room in a spacious, old house with a family that had a son my age, Joachim. His cousins from Berlin, Dieter and Hans, who had lost their home to air raids, were also living there, and the four of us became the best of friends.

  Having boys as buddies was a new experience for me. Where I had played mostly with dolls before, I now played cops and robbers. We occupied our time with cards and board games, always looking for a new hideout somewhere in the lush yard or the spacious attic. Joachim's train set and his lead soldiers also got a frequent workout. As a lawyer's son, Joachim had a substantial collection of books, and the boys enticed me to read about cowboys and Indians and got me hooked on adventure stories. Was it any wonder that Lilo spent most of the summer by herself?

  And it was an endless summer. Because of the chaos after Germany's unconditional surrender in the spring of 1945, our summer vacation lasted from April until October.

  It wasn't all fun and games, though. Scouting for food was the main occupation for Mom and me during harvest time. The food we were able to buy with our ration cards was barely enough for one meal a day. In order to survive, we had to spend most of our time in the fields and forests that surrounded our new hometown. We gathered mushrooms and picked berries and rose hips; we helped a nearby farmer harvest potatoes and sugar beets in exchange for food; we gleaned wheat by hand and took the wheat berries to the ancient windmill up on the hill to trade for flour. We made jam from the rose hips and molasses from the sugar beets, and put the mushrooms on strings to hang up for drying.

  But no matter how hard we worked to survive and to prepare for the long winter ahead, what we were able to stash away lasted only a few months. Dad, who had been drafted to serve in the German Army, got captured at the end of the war and was still in prison camp. He couldn't help provide for us, and my two brothers were only four and six years old. So by the time Christmas rolled around, we were hungry again. That's when I decided to trade Lilo for food.

  I was too young to know my way around the Black Market; however, during the four days we had spent in the refugee camp, we had met a woman who I felt would be able to help me. As a single mother with two small children, she had learned some survival shortcuts, and because she needed a Christmas present for her little girl, she was delighted to make a deal with me. I expected her this afternoon, as soon as she was able to get some food from the Black Market. Lilo was packed and ready to go.

  What a sad and happy day. I had to say good-bye to Lilo, and I received two loaves of bread. It was a good deal, because on the Black Market a loaf of bread cost thirty times more than on ration cards.

  Now I could make plans for Christmas. One loaf was for Mom and the boys. Because I was in the middle of a growing spurt and would get so hungry that my knees became weak and shaky, Mom wanted me to keep the other loaf.

  How rich I felt having my own food to eat and to share! Of course, I wanted to share it also with my buddies. It was the only Christmas present I had for them.

  I proudly cut three slices of my heavy, whole-grain bread. Wrapping paper was not available in any form, so I placed the slices on a plate I had decorated with small pine boughs. Mom gave me a little of our last rose-hip jam. I put a dab of it on each piece. Now I was ready for Christmas Eve, which is the high point of a German Christmas.