Christmas week emails continue with this one from Shirley Southard:

GOLD, COMMON SENSE AND FUR

My husband and I had been happily (most of the time)
married for five years, but hadn't been blessed with
a baby. I decided to do some serious praying and
promised God that if He would give us a child, I
would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word as my guide. God answered
my prayers and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us with another son. The
following year, He blessed us with yet another son.

The year after that we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into
poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest
was only four years old. I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it. As a minister once
told me, "If you pray for rain, make sure you carry
an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the
children each day as they lay in their cribs. I was
off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four
children and I didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed
two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for
baby chicks. I tried to be understanding when they
started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare
bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to
catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a
hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the
mess.

In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand
diapers, never eating a hot meal and never sleeping
for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still
thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promise to be a perfect
mother. I didn't even come close. I did keep my
promise to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I
told my daughter we were going to church to worship
God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to
"wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I
explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my
son thought it was generous of God to give us his
"last wife."

My proudest moment came during the children's
Christmas pageant. My daughter was playing Mary, two
of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a
wise man. This was their moment to shine. My
five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We
found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes." But he
was nervous and said, "The baby was wrapped in
wrinkled clothes."

My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled
clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes." A
wrestling match broke out between Mary and the
shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her
halo and lost her left wing.

I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it
bounced down the aisle crying, "Mama, Mama." Mary
grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it
tightly as the wise men arrived. My other son
stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper
crown, knelt at the manger and announced, "We are
the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts of
gold, common sense and fur."

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the
pageant got a standing ovation. "I've never enjoyed
a Christmas program as much as this one," Pastor
Brian laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. "For the
rest of my life, I'll never hear the Christmas story
without thinking of gold, common sense and fur."

"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest
blessing," I said as I dug through my purse for an
aspirin.