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I want to share with you this story within a story. The story of my father telling us our own Christmas Moonbeam story that he imagined for us when we were little. When I think about it now, I realize how remarkable it was...and I now know what a huge impact it had on my life because it was about love...his love for us. Such a simple thing it seems, telling your children stories while they sit on your lap, by your side ro at your feet.

You see...

Each December, my Father would tell us the story.  He would start about 2 weeks before Christmas, tell a 'chapter' each night and the story  would end on Christmas eve.  The tree would be lit in our side room, the windows in front of the tree painted, one with a Christmas tree, one with a holly wreath and the center window with the manger scene. We loved painting those windows. My Father would outline the scenes and then assign us each a part to 'color' in with paint.

Painting those windows was part of the magic of Christmas for us. I don't know how my parents came up with that idea but if certainly kept us busy and happy. When I say us, I am referring to my one brother and my three sisters. I was the OLDEST of the girls. A place of honor I felt but in fact it just meant I had to babysit for the little ones!

But back to the story, after dinner, homework and baths we would come downstairs in our p.j.’s slippers and robes, surround my father on the couch in the side room. The tree  lights were on, the rest of the house almost dark, our dog Chang at my Dad’s feet and my mother perhaps in the kitchen, taking a break from taking care of 5 children!  And so the  story would begin:

Listen now and I will tell you a chapter or 2 each week for the next few weeks till Christmas....and then when you grow up you can tell your version of the story to your children!

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