I really enjoyed making these for my coworker and I am very proud of them. I'm considering making some similar ones for my Etsy shop.
I enjoy making custom orders, so if you like my designs and have a specific request on color, shape, animal, etc. I would be happy to talk to you. You can contact me here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheKimberlyAnnStudio?ref=hdr_shop_menu.
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Screeching to a stop in front of his house, Nic had barely taken the keys out of the ignition before he was out of the car and running toward his house. Someone caught him by the arm, but he didn’t care to look back to see who it was because the sight of his childhood home going up in smoke filled his vision. Flames licked the exterior of the house through the broken windows, spitting black smoke out into the night air.
Suddenly, with a sickening crack, the roof caved in. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he worried if anyone was inside. Nic combed the yard with his eyes for his family and his whole body nearly collapsed with joy when he found his parents standing with Blitzen on the other side of the yard. He didn’t remember moving, but the next thing he knew he was in his mom’s arms. Everyone made it out, he thought relieved, but then his whole body stiffened. The presents were still inside. There’s no way they survived. “Do we know how the fire started?” Nic asked miserably, pulling out of his mother’s embrace. “They told us it was a chemical fire,” his dad said. “They think it started in the basement.” He hadn’t been working with any chemicals. Had he? The spray paint can, he suddenly remembered. “It’s my fault,” he told them. “I stuck a spray paint can down on the space heater in the basement.” “It was an accident, sweetie,” his mom tried to comfort him. “Everyone got out safely.” “Yeah, but the Christmas presents are still in there. I ruined Christmas.” “Oh, buck up, son,” his dad told him, taking a step forward. “Have a little faith.” Nic only nodded, looking at the house as the firefighters extinguished the last of the flames. All that remained was the depressing semi-structure of his home. The image would forever be scarred in his mind. A police officer came over to them and looked at everyone. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asked. “Yeah, we’ve got a room waiting for us at a hotel,” his mom answered. “Are we allowed to go in and see if anything survived the fire?” “Not tonight, ma’am,” the officer responded. “It’s too dangerous with the chemicals and debris.” “Hey, Rick! You better come see this,” another cop called from the porch. “Bring the family, too.” Rick rolled his eyes, but grabbed some gloves and masks for them before leading them inside. It was dark and the air was thick with smoke. They followed Rick’s flashlight into the basement, careful not to fall on the weak stairs. More people holding flashlights were in the basement, some shining their lights along the walls that were bare, but others pointed their lights toward large lumpy objects in the middle of the room. When they got closer, Nic recognized the tables he had been using to make the gifts. They now laid broken and tarnished, but looking underneath he found they had protected the Christmas gifts from the fire. Nic blinked. He hadn’t put any of the gifts there. “Praise the Lord,” his mom whispered. “All the gifts are here.” Everyone nodded their agreement, to dumbstruck to speak. Only by an act of God could this have been possible. "They just disappeared," Nic insisted to Aimee as they walked along the path in the park early Christmas morning. A fresh coating of snow, which had come secretly in the night, sat atop the old snow on the sidewalks. It was up to about two feet now. Passing the houses that lined the street, Aimee noticed the children who were already outside playing with their new toys. Others were busy making snowmen and snow angels. She was even witness to a heated snowball fight. All of it reminded Aimee of when she was a little kid. Once, she and Nic made an igloo that they practically lived in all winter until one morning they met there to find it had collapsed in the night from the rising temperatures. Aimee shook her head. "I wish I could have been there to see it." "Maybe next year you can be," he replied. They found a bench and brushed it off before taking a seat. "Do you get a gift?" she wondered. "Sure. I get the gift of being Santa Claus," he answered, looking at her. "I help people believe in miracles." She looked into his hazel eyes as he inched forward until his lips touched hers in a warm kiss. It was filled with a tenderness she could never have dreamed existed. A chill shot up her spine and she shivered, wishing to remain there forever. Finally, he gently pulled away and searched her eyes for a reaction. A giddy smile broke out on her face. “Aimee, I’ve liked you ever since the fourth grade when you accidentally killed the class goldfish and gave the poor thing a memorial service.” The memory flashed through her brain. She remembered looking up from the tiny grave and seeing Nic place a daisy on the head stone. He was the only one that attended. “I’ve liked you for I don’t know how long. When I had to move it was the most painful experience of my life.” “Then why didn’t you call?” Nic laughed, taking her gloved hand in his. “I really wanted to, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same,” she answered truthfully. “After awhile anytime I had the urge to pick up the phone, I wondered if you would remember me after all the time.” He touched her cheek. “I wish you did call. There were times I thought maybe you had forgotten about me.” She laughed. “Well aren’t we sad?” “Not anymore,” he whispered, as he gazed at her. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure my mom made some delicious goodies.” “Sounds great.” When Aimee turned away, Nic seized the opportunity to get her with the snowball he had been saving. "Watch it, Santa," Aimee warned him. "You do remember who won all those snowball fights when we were younger?" "Yeah, but you won't win this time," he told her, before snatching some more snow and chased her back to the hotel; passing the kids and a few other couples along the way. Nic stood outside spraying the wooden toy car a vibrant blue. He had gone to the store earlier that day to by the paint he now regretted because it had a particularly strong odor. With one whiff he felt ten of his brain cells die, so he ended up holding his nose while he worked which only made him work slower.
He had finally finished when the phone rang. “Hello?” he answered without checking the ID, while he circled the car to make sure he didn’t miss a spot. “Hey, it’s Aimee,” she said and Nic stopped. “Are you busy tonight?” “Well, I have some toys I needed to finish.” “Can’t you do those later?” she asked. “We still have three days ‘till Christmas.” “What did you have in mind?” “Tonight’s the Christmas play at church, remember? We went every year when we were kids,” she said. “Besides I really don’t want go alone.” Nic sighed melodramatically, like this was the biggest sacrifice ever. “Only if you promise to help me finish the toys.” “Oh, I guess I could survive a few toys,” she played along. “When does it start?” He asked looking at his watch. “Seven.” “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he told her before they clicked off. Nic quickly dragged the freshly painted car in the house, before he rushed upstairs to clean up. When he pulled into the church parking lot twenty minutes later, he found Aimee by the front doors. Even in a fur lined blue coat and a fluffy white scarf she was bouncing up and down in an attempt to keep warm. “Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said when he reached her. Instinctively, he put his arm around her shoulders to share some of his warmth. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I haven’t been waiting that long.” Inside, they were lucky to find a couple of seats near the front. The place was filing up fast. A din of everyone talking seemed to challenge the pre-show Christmas music that played over the speakers. “How’s the toy making coming along,” she asked. “Are you almost done?” “I have a few left, but I should be done by Christmas,” he replied. “You know, I never really thought I would finish.” “Why would you think that? You’re just as capable as the other Santas.” “I know. It’s just a lot of work.” “Do you do anything else besides making the toys?” she wondered. “How do you know which kid gets which gift?” “I don’t.” Nic shrugged. “All I do is make them. God’s the one who delivers the presents to all the right kids around the world.” “Wait, but you haven’t made enough gifts for all the kids in the world,” she pointed out. “No,” he agreed, “but it works like when Jesus fed the five thousand. I’m just the boy who shared all he had and it was enough. “Besides, not all the gifts are material,” he added. “God provides the gift a person needs most. It could be something like food or shelter, but it could also be a renewed relationship. Not all children need things like that so they receive the gifts.” “But what about kids in Africa and stuff who don’t celebrate Christmas?” “God works in miraculous ways. The gift may come indirectly,” he responded. “So if everyone receives a gift, then I’m going to guess no one receives coal.” Aimee smiled. “That would be so mean,” Nic gasped with mock-horror. “Christmas is about Jesus and the exchanging of gifts is supposed to remind us of His great gift to us.” “I know,” Aimee agreed. “Somehow over the years everything got all twisted around. We really shouldn’t be getting gifts at all. It’s not our birthday.” “I don’t understand what people, who don’t know Christ, think this holiday’s about. What’s the purpose in their eyes? If you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense,” Nic said. “Exactly,” Aimee nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, thinking, before Aimee said, “I just realized, this kind of makes your mom Mrs. Claus.” Nic smiled at that as the lights dimmed for the show to begin and the first scene of “The Nativity story” commenced. A spotlight illuminated a young woman, Mary, and a young man, Joseph, being wed by her parents. The story continued to unravel, until they finally reached the part where baby Jesus was laying in that humble manger. Around Him were little children dressed in animal costumes with their shepherd, as well as the three wise men that traveled a great distance to just to see Him, the Messiah. More children came down the aisles holding candles and singing the beautiful hymn “Silent Night.” A tear sprang to Aimee’s eye. She blinked it away before it could spill over onto her cheek. It had been too long since she had seen the beautiful story. Afterwards, Aimee headed toward the stage to find Mrs. Taylor, the director, who put the show on every year. “You did a wonderful job,” she told her. “Why, thank you, dear.” Mrs. Taylor smiled, leaning over to catch Aimee in a hug. “It was a lot of work, let me tell you.” “Isn’t it always?” Aimee grinned, rolling her eyes. “Hi, Nic,” Mrs. Taylor said, giving him a hug, too. “Actually, it was harder this year because a couple of weeks ago I had to change the lead rolls because the children were fighting over them.” “Really?” Aimee asked. “Oh, no.” “Yeah,” Mrs. Taylor nodded, “but the adults really helped by learning their lines quickly. They were a real blessing. The children were complete angels tonight, too.” “They were so cute,” Aimee commented. “I’m so glad you guys could come,” Mrs. Taylor said. “I better go take care of a few things before I head downstairs for refreshments.” “Okay,” Aimee said. “See you later.” Mrs. Taylor hurried back stage as and Aimee and Nic walked toward the door. “I’m not really hungry, “Nic said admitted “Are you?” “Not really,” Aimee agreed. “I guess I’ll head home.” “Not so fast,” Nic told her. “You have some presents to help make.” “You want to do that tonight? Isn’t a little a late?” “It’s hardly ten.” Aimee raised her eyebrows. “I promise to give you a tour of the work shop.” “Oh, I suppose,” Aimee caved, smiling. Aimee, Nic, and his parents gathered around the decoratively designed table. A red table cloth topped with fresh, clean dishes and silverware that was bundled up in festive green napkins. At the center of the table were two white candles and a full plant of deep red poinsettias. Aimee reached out to feel one of the petals and was surprised to find them real.
“Where did you get these?” she asked Nic’s mother, Mrs. Clark. “There’s a little florist shop on main street that opened a few years back,” she answered. “They have them every year.” “They’re so pretty,” she commented, looking back at the display. “I’ll have to send some to my mom. She would love these.” “Remind me to give you the directions after dinner,” Mrs. Clark told her. “The Good Lord knows I’ll never remember.” They bowed their heads and Mr. Clark took over in leading them in a blessing for the meal. Then everyone started to pass the food around the table. It was a lovely spread of pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. “So, Aimee, how is your family doing?” Mr. Clark asked, cutting into a piece of his pork chop. “They’re all doing fine,” she said. “My sister got her first job working at Stop & Shop as a cashier a few months ago. She’s actually really excited about it.” “I remember Nic not liking his first job,” Mrs. Clark said, looking at her son teasingly. “How could I? I was working at McDonalds,” he replied. Mrs. Clark shook her head. “Anyway, what grade is your sister in now?” “She’s a junior,” Aimee answered. “She’s taking Driver’s Ed and has been saving every penny for a car.” “Good for her,” Mrs. Clark said. “And how are your mom and dad?” Mrs. Clark continued, before taking a sip of her water. “They’re hanging in there.” She smiled. “My mom didn’t want me to go to college to far away.” “Mine, either,” Nic added. “You can guess who won.” “Oh, hush, you said yourself you weren’t ready to move away,” Mrs. Clark told him. He held up a hand of surrender. “Why doesn’t your mom move back up here?” Mrs. Clark wondered. Nic recalled how close his mom and Mrs. Peters were. That’s kind of how Nic and Aimee became friends. They had been neighbors, but he probably wouldn’t have even have known her if their mom’s hadn’t thrown them together so much as kids. He was grateful for that now. “I don’t know, There’s still my sister and she really likes having her own antique store,” Aimee answered. “Business is good?” “Yep. Everyone loves my mom. She gives great discounts.” “Oh, I love antiques, maybe we’ll have to go down there on vacation sometime and check it out.” Mrs. Clark grinned. “I’m sure my mom would love to see you again,” Aimee replied. “What’s been going on up here?” “Well, I’m still a pharmacist and now I volunteer at a pet shelter,” she answered. “Really? My mom’s in the market for a new dog,” Aimee said. “I don’t know if it’s supposed to be my replacement or something, but she really has no idea of what dog to get?” “Do you know what size she wants?” Aimee shrugged. “I really don’t know.” “I’ll have to call her tomorrow then,” she decided and took a sip of her water to wash down her mashed potatoes. “You know, mom, Aimee wants to be a vet,” Nic prompted. “That sounds like fun. I don’t understand how some people don’t like animals,” Mrs. Clark commented. “Our dog, Blitzen, is around here somewhere. You’ll have to see him before you leave. He always loved you.” “How old is he now?” “He’ll be eleven in January, she responded. “He spends most of his time in the basement now.” Aimee smiled and made a mental note to see Blitzen as she finished her plate. “Why don’t you all move into the living room while I clear the table?” Mrs. Clark asked. “Actually, honey, I have to go in to work for an hour,” Mr. Clark said. “Oh, right,” she remembered. “Hurry back.” Nic and Aimee got up from the table and headed toward the living room. “Can I meet you there?” “Sure.” “Great. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told her, turning for the stairs. As Aimee walked down the hallway she heard a thump come from the basement. Remembering Blitzen, she decided now was as good a time as any to pay him a visit. Descending the steep, wooden stairs, she flipped a little switch on the wall and the whole room was bathed in light. Christmas lights. They ran along the walls, winded around poles, and hung over cabinets and windows. That wasn’t what took her breath away, though. It was the toys and gifts that covered every available space and overflowed the many boxes. Blitzen poked his head out from behind a table covered in wrapping paper and ribbons. “Come here, boy,” she called, bending down for him to enter her arms, which he did ever so willingly. “What is all this?” she asked him, but he wasn’t the one to supply the answer. “A long story,” Nic said behind her. She looked up at him, urging him to go on. Nic looked around the room, not wanting to see her reaction when he said, “I made all these toys.” Aimee stood up and went further into the room. “You made all these? How is that even possible?” “I’ve been working on them for almost a year now,” he answered, following her. She picked up a teacup from its set. Before she could speak, he decided to answer the question that was like an elephant in the room. “I did all this because I’m, what most people would call, Santa Claus.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hoping she will believe him and not believe him at the same time. He had been dying to tell her since they were kids, but feared her reaction. Besides, he definitely couldn’t lie to her. Aimee looked at his cowering figure and smiled. He really did care about her opinion. “How can you be Santa Claus? You don’t have a fluffy white beard.” He chuckled. “That’s just a story that these two guys in New York created over two hundred years ago.” She set the teacup back down and gazed around the room. “Is this something you decided to do because of your new found love for children?” She smirked. He shook his head. “No, it’s a tradition that has run in my family since the original St. Nic.” “Wow,” she responded, her eyes widening. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” “I always thought it was weird and I didn’t think anyone would believe me, so I just didn’t say anything,” he explained looking embarrassed. Aimee didn’t know what to say because truth-be-told she was a little hurt that he kept this very important part of his life from her. She also tried to picture how she would have reacted if he had told her when they were kids. Her heart sunk when she realized she probably would have thought he was weird. Something brushed against her leg and she looked down at Blitzen. “Is that why your dog is named Blitzen?” “My dad named him.” He looked relieved. “You know you’re taking this really well.” “Oh,” was all she managed. Was she taking this well? Honestly she was still trying to wrap her mind around it. It did explain a few things about him, like when she found toys like these in his basement once before, Nic had brushed it off saying it were his Christmas presents, though she never saw them again. “How long have you been doing this?” “This is my first year,” he answered. She shook her head. “This is amazing. Only have one question. Why do you have all these Christmas lights? Wouldn’t it be more behooving to use regular lights? It’s kind of hard to see.” “They give me inspiration,” he replied and they smiled. Footsteps came on the stairs and Mrs. Clark came into view. “There you two are. Aimee, I just saw on the weather channel that the snow storm will start within the hour. You probably should get going before the roads get bad.” “Thanks,” Aimee said, walking back toward the stairs. Nic trailed behind her, flicking the light back off along the way. “I had a lovely time,” Aimee said, putting her coat on. She looked at the fireplace that roared on the other side of the living room with their full Christmas tree decked in twinkling lights and tinsel. She really wished she didn’t have to go. A blanket doesn’t even compare to the comfort and warmth of sitting by their cozy fire. “Thanks for having me.” “Anytime, dear,” Mrs. Clark told her as she wrapped Aimee in a hug. “It was good to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” “I won’t,” she promised as she looked at Nic. “Bye.” Aimee ducked out the door and through the frigid air to her car. “This one’s too weak, Nic,” his father told him that following Saturday. “That rocking horse will never hold a kid over 15 pounds.”
“I know,” Nic answered, frustrated. “I’ve tried everything, but there is so much glue on it that it will no longer hold the pieces together and if I drill anymore holes the wood will split.” His father bent down to examine the structure more closely while Nic looked on nervously. He was beginning to think that he wasn’t cut out to be a toy maker. Maybe the long-lasting and well respected tradition was going to end with him. He cringed at the thought of being the soul reason why children all around the world were going to be disappointed without their annual Christmas gift. “Okay,” his father groaned from the exertion of getting up. “Take all the glue off and put grooves in the body to fit the parts together. It should work.” “Thanks, dad.” Nic smiled, relieved. He was silly to forget his father’s abundant knowledge in this area. He wasn’t doing this all by himself. “I’ve working on this for last few days.” “Chris? Nic? Lunch is ready,” Nic’s mother called from upstairs. “Okay, we’ll be right up,” his dad called back. “You’re doing a good job, son.” “Do you really think I’ll finish on time, though?” Nic asked uncertainly as he scanned the room. “Christmas is in two weeks.” “You’ll finish. God never gives us anything we can’t handle,” he told him. “Come on let’s go eat.” He clapped his hand on Nic’s shoulder and guided him toward the stairs. Walking into the kitchen, Nic’s mom places two sandwiches on the counter along with a couple of bags of chips, before returning to cleaning up the kitchen. She isn’t much of a cook, but could make anything if you asked her. The staples in their house were pizza and sandwiches, though, because she doesn’t care for cooking. Not that the men minded. Nic bit into his toasted roast beef sandwich. “Oh, mom, guess who I ran into on Thursday.” “Who?” His mom wiped her hands on a small towel and gave him her full attention. “Aimee Peters.” “Really? Where did you see her?” his mom asked. “Just off campus. She’s going to Quinsig too.” “Aimee was such a sweet girl. How is she?” “She’s fine,” he responded, taking a sip from his glass of chocolate milk. “She told me she missed it up here, though.” “Well we missed her up here, too.” His mom smiled. “Next Saturday we’ve planned to go out to dinner and catch up,” Nic threw in. “You two should have dinner here so we can all see her again,” she suggested. “I can make a nice dinner and that way you won’t have to buy food. Find out what she would like.” Nic had been kind of hoping for this time alone with Aimee, but how could he turn his mom when she was excited. “Okay, I’ll call her later.” Aimee was on her way to her Psych class when her phone buzzed in her pocket. As she reached for it, her foot hit some black ice and she landed hard on her butt. “Ow,” she said as she looked at the caller idea and saw Nic’s number. “Hello.” “Change of plans,” he said. “We’ll be having dinner at my house next Saturday. I told my mom you were in town and now she can’t wait to see you.” “Oh, that’s fine,” she assured him, her cheeks hurting from all the heavy smiling. She didn’t even notice much less care that she was still sitting on the ground as the water soaked through her jeans. “What time should I be at your house?” “Six and she wants to know what you would like to eat.” “Anything’s fine,” Aimee replied. “Please give me something or my mom will go crazy from stress on what to make,” he mock-begged, which was followed by a thump and a “hey.” She tossed out the first thing that came to mind, “I like pork chops.” “Great, I’ll let her know,” he replied. “See you on Saturday.” “Bye.” She looked at the phone after he hung up. How is it she still had a crush on him? They hadn’t spoken to each other in over four years. She wondered if anything would actually form this time. So here is one of the Christmas short stories I have written. I hope you enjoy it. Warning to anyone who cares: this is a Christian Christmas story. Have you heard the true story of Santa Claus? He wasn’t originally the jolly ol’ fellow who is portrayed in today’s society. His name was Nicholas and he lived back in the third century. He was born into a wealthy family in the town of Patara, which is now in present day Turkey. As a young man, he became Bishop of Myra, a town not far from Patara, and was a devout Christian. When Emperor Diocletian was in power, he persecuted Nicholas because of his faith along with many others Christians. Later he was released, however.
What brought Nicholas to become the legendary guy we know today was his well known generosity toward the needy along with his profound love for children. As a follower of Christ, Nicholas obeyed his command to give to the poor, which he did faithfully. The stories that I’m sure you’ve heard seemed to sprout from there. I want to tell you the real story. It doesn’t involve elves or reindeer, just a family tradition. Since Saint Nicholas, the family line continued the honor-worthy ritual until it became a once a year event. Now, they live in Massachusetts and it’s time for the tradition to be passed on again to a young man named Nic. Aimee was practically skipping as she made her way through the gentle snowfall. Everything was so peaceful that she couldn’t bring herself to worry about the American History class she was missing. Just as she was about to duck into the quaint, little café she visited religiously everyday, a voice nearly startled her. “Aimee? She turned her head and spotted a man who looked like the older version of “Nic.” She smiled when he nodded and quickened his pace toward her. “What are you doing here?” “I go to Quinsig,” he told her, stopping a few paces away and shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. “Really? I do, too.” Aimee grinned. “I haven’t seen you around. You’re a Sophomore now, right?” “Yeah. This is your first year?” he checked. “Yeah.” Not knowing what to say, she looked around and settled on the café. “Hey, I was about to get something warm to drink, do you want to come?” “That would be great.” He grinned. Inside the pleasantly heated café, they went over to the counter; each ordered a hot chocolate because it was a bit late for coffee. Taking a seat in a booth by the window, they nursed their fresh drinks. “So I haven’t seen you since the end eighth grade, how was Georgia?”Nic began, setting his foam cup on the table. “Alright. I missed it here, though,” Aimee answered, sliding her gloves and wool hat off. “You know the people here really take the true beauty of the changing seasons for granted. You don’t get see the trees change colors or the snow down south.” “That’s why you decided to come back?” “Yeah,” she nodded with a dreamy look on her face, which made Nic realize how increasingly more beautiful she had become. “What do you want to major in?” Nic asked, shifting eyes off her face and taking another sip of steaming hot cocoa. “I’ve always wanted to be a vet,” she admitted. “I do remember your love for animals.” “What are you majoring in?” “I’m studying to be a Kindergarten teacher,” he said. “That’s interesting considering you practically hated kids when you were younger,” she teased. “You couldn’t stand being around them for more than five minutes.” “Yeah, well, it developed from working with the kids at church,” he replied. “There’s just something so fresh and innocent about a little kid.” “Sounds like you found your passion,” she agreed, looking at his shining face. “I have,” he nodded thinking. “Speaking of which, I should probably get to class.” “Okay,” she said as they slid out of the booth and headed for the door. “I should get going, too.” Though, to where, she wasn’t quite sure. They stopped just outside the door. “We need to talk some more,” Nic announced. “I’d like that. Are you free this weekend?” She tugged the wool cap over her ears again before bundling her nimble fingers back up. “No,” Nic answered thoughtfully, “but I’m free the Saturday after.” “My last test is that morning, but I’ll be available after one.” “We can do something that night. How about dinner?” he wondered. “Perfect.” She grinned. Her heart leaped at the idea. It was almost as if they were making plans for a date. “How about I give you my cell number so you can call me on any details?” He nodded and she punched her number in his phone while he punched his in her phone. “It was really nice seeing you again,” Aimee said before turning in the direction she came earlier. “You, too.” Nic grinned as he watched her delicate figure hunch over to try and shield her face from the biting wind that seemed to have picked up. Man, was he surprised to see her again. They had lost touch after she moved and he hadn’t held much hope for seeing her again. He had occasionally wondered how she was doing, though. Things had never been the same, that’s for sure. He ended up being a more of keep-to-himself kind of guy because he couldn’t form a real friendship with anyone else. One time he even looked her up on Facebook, but she apparently didn’t have one. When she was just a speck in the distance, he directed himself toward his Lit class and started to trek a path through the young powder of falling snow. For class we made our own short films. Mine is about a guy who lost his wife in a car accident and has a hard time coping. I hope you enjoy it. I definately enjoyed making it. Every year we look forward to listening to Christmas songs around Christmas time, but it doesn't take long for us to get sick of the "Christmas Classics" the radio stations love to play on repeat. These classics are wonderful and bring out our nostalgic Christmas feelings, but we also crave more variety. Here I have some of my favorite Christmas songs that have faded with time or are not quite as popular, but still deserve to be considered for our playlist. Click the song title to listen to the song on YouTube. Most of these songs have other people singing them if you don't like the artist. 12 Days of Christmas that is such a pain to me by Bob Rivers 12 Days of Christmas by Straight No Chaser Christmas Letter by Keith Whitley A Soldier Christmas Poem Silver and Gold from Rudolph Christmas Cookies by George Strait Mistletoe and Holly by Frank Sinatra Penguin, James Penguin by Brad Paisley Christmas in Heaven by Scotty McCreery Holidays are Coming by Melanie Thornton My Only Wish This Year by Britney Spears Emmanuel by Amy Grant Santa Claus Lane by Hilary Duff Christmas This Year by TobyMac Someday at Christmas by Stevie Wonder A Marshmellow World by Dean Martin This Christmastime by Corbin Bleu A Prayer for Every Year by Plus One It Came Upon a Midnight Clear by Josh Groban Go Tell it on the Mountain by Sara Evans Somewhere in my Memory by John Williams Angels We Have Heard on High by Josh Groban El Shaddai by Amy Grant Breath of Heaven by Amy Grant The Christmas Waltz by Frank Sinatra These are the Special Times by Christina Aguilera I would very much love your feedback as well as any of your own favorite non-overplayed Christmas songs. I would love to grow my collection too!
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KimI am a huge animal lover, going through college, and love to create. That's about it. Archives
August 2017
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