“Thank You Lord for such a perfect day to bake Christmas cookies,” Sarah prayed, staring out of a huge picture window. Large, puffy snowflakes floated down like clouds in front of Sarah’s century-old home. She sighed, then pointed her Wii-Phone at a High-Definition Television, and powered it on.
The classic film It’s a Wonderful Life filled the monstrous, 60-inch screen.
Then, a black sedan pulled up. “There she is,” Sarah whispered.
Sarah’s best friend Marcy got out of a sparkling Mercedes. Marcy gingerly tip-toed through the snow and simultaneously engaged the automobile’s security system.
With a squeeeek, Sarah opened the ancient, wooden door. “Hi Marcy, it’s sooo good to see you. Please come in!”
“Thanks—this is going to be the best Christmas cookie sale, ever.” Marcy spotted the huge, decorated Christmas tree by the picture window. “Oh, you really went all-out this year in your new abode. It’s beautiful!”
“Thank you. Let me show you what I’m working on.”
As they walked into the kitchen, Marcy gasped. “This smells amazing.” A dozen bowls were neatly lined up on the kitchen counter, one for each ingredient.
“I was too excited—I got up real early this morning, and made half the cookies already.”
“That’s okay… Weren’t you telling me that you make twelve different kinds?”
“Yes, one type of cookie for each of the 12 Days of Christmas.”
“That’s a FANtastic idea!”
“These should be done now.” Sarah grabbed an oven mitt, bent down and pulled out the tray. “Wa-la! Five Golden Rings.”
“Oh, those do look good!”
“I made up the recipe myself.” Sarah proudly said, then demonstrated. “On a well-floured cutting board, you roll out the dough with a rolling pin. Then, you take a plain, round cookie-cutter and cut out a circle. Then you take a smaller, round cookie-cutter, and cut out the center of the circle, and remove the center. Do it again four more times to make five rings. Then, you place all five rings overlapping each other on the pan in a circle. When they’re finished baking, shake some gold-colored sprinkles on the rings. I usually put another cookie in the center, so they hold together better—like a Hershey’s chocolate kiss cookie.”
Sarah’s Wii-Phone interrupted with an Amazing Grace ringtone. “I have another batch ready to put in the oven—go ahead and put them in—I’ve got to answer this.” It was her husband Ron. “Hi honey. How are things going at the dress rehearsal?”
“It’s going great! I’m sending you a video feed now directly to our High-Definition Television. Check it out.”
Sarah heard it before she saw it. A city-wide choir--with hundreds of people from dozens of local churches--all dressed as angels, were singing:
Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o'er the plains,
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
The camera panned the mass choir, then moved down and focused on a manger scene in front of the stage.
Ron excitedly said “It dovetails into the next song—The Hallelujah Chorus--watch!”
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.
“Hold on.” Sarah covered the phone. “Marcy, come here and look at this!”
And He shall reign forever and ever--
“WOW! This will touch SO many people.”
Then, the doorbell rang--causing the scene on the television to pause--freezing on one angelic choir member with tears in her eyes, seemingly looking right at Sarah.
“I gotta run, honey—thank you.”
Sarah opened the door.
“Master Messenger Service with a delivery.” A burly man handed Sarah an envelope. “Please sign here.” As Sarah signed her name she heard a woman scream from a house across the street.
“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! Please.”
A man yelled, “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE! I’m goin’ for a ride.” He slammed a truck door.
The Messenger softly said, “Sounds like they need help.”
Sarah glanced down at the envelope, and when she looked back up, the Messenger was gone. A woman sat the doorway of the house across the street with her face in her hands, apparently crying.
She needs help.
Still in slippers, Sarah ran through the snow to her, and asked, “Can I help you?”
“My husband lost his job, and now we’re outta food for the kids. He just went to drink the last-a our money.”
“Bring your kids over to my house.”
It was their best Christmas cookie feast, ever.
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