Tag Archives: Christmas

Christmas Love Letters from God Giveaway!

I know you’ve only just put your shorts and summer tops away; I know the trees are only just starting to turn orange; I know your Christmas tree is still tucked away in that big box in the attic… but the publication date of Christmas Love Letters from God is almost here! Six short days from now, in fact!

So, to celebrate, we’re giving away two brand-new, hot-off-the-press copies. It’s your chance to cross a gift off your Christmas shopping list.

If you live in the USA and don’t have a PO box, you can enter. Just fill in the contact form below and tell me which of these seven stories contained in the book might be your favorite.

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My favorite is the one you’ll hear me read, right here…..

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Enter the giveaway by completing the form below. (And if you want your name to be entered twice, share this post on Facebook or email to a friend, and just let me know in your comment.) I hope you win!

No Contest

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So I plop to my knees in front of my living room window to pray. I’m in a sleepy state (nothing new.) My head is down. My eyes are closed.

For some reason, I open my eyes and I’m literally shocked by what I see. I jump up to grab my phone. I have to capture this. Right outside my window, like it was placed there just for me, is the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen (except perhaps for the one I saw over Lake Galilee.)

I don’t live on a lake. I don’t live on a hillside. I don’t live in the country. I live in a little cul-de-sac in the city of Grand Rapids. When I look out of my window I see houses, and concrete. But that doesn’t stop an artist at work. The canvas being painted outside my window wakes me up, and I shout to my husband, and interrupt his prayer time too.

David, you’ve just got to see this.

And maybe it’s because I’m not a morning person, and maybe it’s because I haven’t seen that many sunrises, that I’m completely overtaken by the sheer beauty of the reds and pinks and purples and yellows, as they dance behind a silhouette of bare winter trees.

I take picture, after picture, after picture. And five minutes later, it’s gone.

When I look at my phone, I see my Christmas tree reflected in the glass.

And I hear God whisper,

You light your Christmas tree? Look how I light the morning sky.

No contest.

Why We Should Look Up at the Stars

Interview with Laura Sassi, Author of Goodnight, Manger, and a Giveaway!

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If you are looking for a wonderful Christmas book for your little ones, look no further than Goodnight, Manger, the newest release from children’s book author and poet, Laura Sassi.

In this adorable book, it’s bedtime for baby Jesus, but who knew a stable could be so loud? Mama, Papa, and all of the animals try to lull the baby to sleep, but between itchy hay, angels singing, and three kings bearing gifts, it’s too noisy. Will the baby ever get to sleep? You’ll have to read the book to find out!

I’m thrilled that Laura agreed to be interviewed on my blog today, and also graciously agreed to give my readers a chance to win a signed copy of her book.

Thank you so much for stopping by my blog today Laura! Let’s get the formal introduction out of the way. What does the bio on the back of your books say about you?

The bio on the back of my books reads: Laura Sassi has a passion for telling humorous stories in rhyme. She writes daily from her century-old home in New Jersey where she lives with her husband, two children, and a black cockapoo named Sophie.

Okay…now for two interesting and quirky facts about you that we won’t find on the back of your books…

Oooh, this is fun. Let’s see.

First fact: One of the side-effects of writing stories in rhyme is that sometimes I rhyme (without thinking) in normal conversation. Ex: “Pull up a seat, it’s time to eat!” This is especially embarrassing to my children when friends are over, though the friends usually like it.

Second fact: I spent most of my elementary school years living in Paris. I spoke French every day, played in French (and English too), watched TV in French, sang songs in French, and memorized poems in French. To this day, I LOVE watching French films and speak French whenever I get the chance, which is more often than you might expect. I credit all those years of listening to the beautiful lyrics of francophone singers such as Jacques Brel for infusing me with a love for creating beautiful pictures with words.

What inspired you to write Goodnight, Manger?

As a mom, I have tender memories of putting my babies to bed and how hard it was when they were overstimulated or overtired. I also have memories of my sweet daughter, who was only three or four at the time, playing with the little Baby Jesus that was part of our nativity set. She’d carry him around the house saying things like, “Baby Jesus crying. It’s okay, Baby.” Then she’d gently feed him or rock him and sing a lullaby. Before listening to her tender play, I’d never thought of Baby Jesus as ever crying. But, he was human (and God) and so he must have cried. With those sweet sparks of inspiration, I was ready to write the story that was on my heart – which was to write a fun Christmas bedtime book that kids would want to read again and again and which would point them in the direction of Jesus – the real gift of Christmas.

The illustrations in the book are just adorable, and so unique. What was your reaction when you first saw them?

I loved Jane’s illustrations for my first book, Goodnight, Ark, so I was confident that she would do an amazing job with Goodnight, Manger as well. And once again, when I saw her work I was thrilled. Her illustrations for Goodnight, Manger glow with a warmth and gentle humor that perfectly capture the essence of the story. I love the sweet interactions included in each illustration, such as the mice peering dotingly down on Baby Jesus and the exceptionally expressive donkey, rooster and hen. I also love how her depictions of all the Christmas characters look like they belong in the beautiful part of the world into which our Savior was born.

Do you have any other books on the horizon?

I do, but I am afraid that any details must remain in the “top secret” category for now. =)

How can readers stay connected with you?

Readers can stay connected by visiting me on Facebook, Twitter, or by stopping by my blog. If readers are interested in arranging a class or library visit either in person or via Skype, please reach out to me via the Contact tab on my blog. I would also like to share that in response to requests from readers for signed copies, my local indie book store, The Town Book Store in Westfield, New Jersey, will now offer signed, personalized copies. If this is of interest, please call them to order the books you want. Explain that you would like to have them signed by the author and pass along the names you’d like included. They will take the order and do the transaction. I will then come in and sign the book or books. Readers can either pick them up in-store at no extra charge, or have them mailed. There will be a shipping fee to cover the cost of mailing, but they can give you those details. I thought this was a nice way to make signed copies available and support a wonderful independent book store. Their number is: The Town Book Store (908) 233-3535.

Thank you so much Laura! It was a blessing to have you visit my blog today! And here’s the best part….enter the giveaway to win a signed copy of Goodnight, Manger! (To be eligible, you must be a U.S. resident and have a physical address, not a P.O. Box. )

The Birth Announcement

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It was an ordinary day. An ordinary envelope. But there was nothing ordinary about the news.

The evidence slid out in black and white- a photograph taken from inside the depths of the womb. And there he lay, curled and fast asleep; his bones still forming; unaware of the world; unaware of all the love that was waiting to welcome him.

That was how we heard the news of our second grandchild.

There is surely nothing more wonderful than to announce the news of a baby.

For Mary, there would be no letters to write; no cards to mail; no excited phone calls to make; no photographic evidence.

But instead, there were a thousand angels who flew from heaven and announced the wonderful news in song to shepherds on a starlit hillside.

There were sleepy animals who would wake, astonished, in the middle of the night to witness the birth of a King in a love-filled stable.

There were wise men carrying treasures who would follow a star for miles and miles to kneel in awestruck worship.

And there was God.

And His name was called Jesus.

And even though baby Jesus slept- the world would never, ever, be the same again.

“And even though baby Jesus slept, the world would never, ever be the same again.” #Christmas

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The Unrehearsed Nativity

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A little story was re-enacted in church this morning; a little story that first unfolded in Bethlehem; a little story of hope that has always had the power to change the world.

It was totally unrehearsed.

Costumes and crowns lay on pews – no one knew who would wear them; gold, frankincense and myrrh sat at the ready – no-one knew who would carry them; a baby doll, wrapped snug in blue cloth waited patiently – no-one knew who would hold him.

But when the invitation was given to be part of the story, a boy and girl volunteered to be Mary and Joseph; shepherds and sheep came forward; three brothers opted to be kings, and a little boy eagerly grabbed a star that was bigger than himself.

And the ancient story unfolded, along with carols and readings, while proud parents took photographs.

And despite the big star tripping as he reached the stable; despite baby Jesus being almost thrown in the manger; and despite the big cardboard cow toppling over, it all turned out perfectly.

Unrehearsed Nativity Pic

And I think about that real journey to Bethlehem…totally unrehearsed; no-one knowing where or when the baby would be born; no-one knowing who would wear the crown, or quite who it was that Mary would hold..

And despite there being no room at the inn, despite being surrounded by the smell of animals, and despite the King of the World having to sleep in an eating trough, it all turned out perfectly.

God was born.

What could be more perfect than that?

And like a million lights twinkling in the darkness of a Christmas night, like a choir of carolers singing in the quiet of a December evening, magic must have filled the air.

Hope was born.

And aren’t we all meant to be part of that story too?

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWq60oyrHVQ

When You Get a Glimpse of Christmas in the Unexpected…

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It is early summer, a full six months away from Christmas. The only snow to be seen today sits atop Mount Hood, hugging her slopes like frosting on a giant cupcake and gleaming brilliant white in sunshine.

I am walking around picturesque Trillium Lake in Oregon, in the company of blue skies and bald eagles. This has to be one of my favorite places in the world. Everywhere I look there is beauty. I feel like I’m in a picture postcard.

Above I see the majestic slopes of Oregon’s most famous mountain, framed against a background of sheer blue. Below I see her white covered peaks reflected in shimmering turquoise. All around are trees, and birds, and sunshine on leaves. The air is filled with laughter and conversation as we finish our family picnic and begin our walk together.

And my three-year old grandson – always ahead, and always running, and always the one to notice things, is making his way back to me, running back down the wooded path with something in his hand. It glistens in the sun.

What is that? It’s a shiny Christmas bauble.

I’m confused.

It’s a steaming hot day. It’s early summer. Where did that come from? And then I see it….

On the path up ahead is a solitary pine tree, quietly standing to one side, waiting to be noticed. And from its branches hang shiny Christmas baubles…red, and green, silver and gold, catching the sunlight and swinging in the breeze.

And we all stop, and laugh, and marvel at the sight, and take photographs with our phones. And then we keep on walking.

And I can’t help but wonder…

Who was it who placed those baubles there?

Who was it who walked that path before us; who noticed that pine tree; who went home; foraged for their hidden-away Christmas ornaments; took out the baubles; selected the colors, and then brought them back to hang on that tree –

so that everyone who passed by would stop, and take notice, and smile, and perhaps write blogs about what they had seen that day?

Because whoever it was, that little unexpected surprise took a whole lot of thought, and planning, and detail, and purpose.

Like God.

Sending Jesus.

Who stands quietly to one side of our path as we walk.

Waiting for us to stop.

Waiting to be noticed.

When we might least expect it.

“This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son.” John 3:16 #Christmas

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Looking for Something Special in the Darkness of a Christmas Eve…

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It’s Christmas Eve in a big old house in northern England. Above the fireplace in the front room, eight socks dangle- empty, but expectant. Each sock has a name attached tightly to it by a wooden clothes peg. The fifth one says GLENYS.

On the hearth beneath sits a glass of milk, a plate with one home-made mince pie, and a carrot. The stage is set.

Night is falling and bedtime approaches. We scamper upstairs, my seven siblings and I, and congregate in the darkness of the bedroom. The curtains are parted, and we peer into the night. For a moment all is quiet. Our eyes search.

Where is it, Dad? Can you see it?

I see it! The cry goes up from my youngest sister. It’s over there!

She points and we all gaze in the direction of her finger, scanning the darkness until we see it too.

It’s a light.

A light, flickering and traveling in the darkness.

There it is! My exuberant and energetic dad exclaims, seizing the opportunity. He’s on the move! He’s getting closer! You’d better get straight to bed. Father Christmas won’t come if you’re not asleep!

And we jump into bed and pull the covers over our heads, and dream of morning, when our front room will be filled with love and laughter, presents galore, and eight socks will bulge with promising and peculiar shapes.

We will marvel at the mysterious bite taken out of the home-made mince pie and search for Rudolph’s teeth marks left in the half-eaten carrot.

But amidst these wonderful memories, always, always for me, one will remain uppermost…

Looking for Father Christmas’s light on Christmas Eve.

We lived atop a hill, overlooking the town of Wigan. On any given night, a million stars shone, and hundreds of lights twinkled and traveled in the darkness.

I’m sure that those eight little faces, glued to the window in the darkness of a Christmas Eve, each saw a different light. But it didn’t matter. We saw the magic. We felt it in the air. We share the memory.

That ritual on Christmas Eve, created by a dad who was so full of fun and love and life, is one that I will replicate with my grandchildren this year. For the first time, I will be with them on Christmas Eve, in their home atop a hill.

And as we stand at the window and scrunch our noses against the glass and search for Father Christmas’s light in the darkness, I’ll be thinking of my dad, and a faraway home in England, and how utterly precious is family, and how fleeting is time, that passes by so very, very fast.