"The Memories of Christmas
Someone sent me a Christmas story about... Harold. It was the night of the Christmas play. All was going as planned, until it was time for shy Harold, who was bigger than the other kids and had only one line to say. He played the part of the innkeeper who was to say to Joseph and Mary, 'We don't have any more room,' and then turn them away.
He'd 'performed' just fine during all the rehearsals but, now, as he looked into Joseph's weary face and watched Mary, heavy with child... he just couldn't let them go.
In a moment of compassion, he flung open the inn door saying, 'Wait - you can have my room!' And, of course, with that he brought the house down.
For me, the memories of Christmas range from standing up in my bed (crib), worried sick that Santa might never make it through the vicious Minneapolis blizzard; yet more importantly, how would he make it to our house? I remember our little home, the simple tree and, of course, the gifts. We'd get two presents a year and I can recall virtually every one of them... from my first basketball to an army set, from my Bible to a machine gun. That certainly runs the gamut, but thats what I remember.
I want you to know Harold wasn't the only one to experience first-hand what it must be like to make room for Jesus our King. Memories of Christmas require both time and expense. I watched one young couple redesign their home for one reason: they were expecting. Can you believe it? I can. Because, while memories are wonderful, remember: to gain something, you might have to give up something.
This Christmas, I'm believing for memories... memories that, this year, we made room for Jesus Christ in ways we've never done before... memories that Jesus Christ, God's Son, lives at our house. That's a gift you'll never forget.
Memories are made of Him,
Ron Mehl"