Description of Coloring Page: Santa with a halo, baskets of toys, reindeer waiting patiently, old-fashioned St. Nick, beard, fur coat, black boots
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as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question
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can.
Kriss.
Jolly old Kriss, what a fellow you are! Riding all over the world in the air, Sliding down chimneys thru ashes and smoke, Fur-covered Kriss, you're a regular joke!
How do you manage to carry such loads? How do you manage to keep the right roads? How do you know all the good girls and boys? Why don't we wake with your clattering noise?
A colorful Christmas scene may be made to appear amongst this tangle of lines, by using crayons or colored pencils and filling in each area in accordance with this key. B means blue, BK black, Y yellow, O, orange; R is red; V is violet; G is green; P is for pink.
Description of Coloring Page: wooden bucket, snow, children playing in the snow with their dog, a very retro looking snowman, umbrella skeleton, back fence, ladder
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about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located
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can.
King Winter by Charles Wilder
It's getting colder. Mother says King Winter's come to town And brought his icy, snowy clothes And probably his crown.
And sure enough, when I look out Our window, I can see His diamonds all along the twigs Of our old cherry tree!
Description of Coloring Page: snowshoes, snow shoes, winter fun, cold outside, child, little girl, downhill, winter sport, cap and mittens
Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image
as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question
about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located
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can.
Oh, Jack Frost touched the lake last night, So buckle on your skates so bright, For the ice is smooth as glass, they say; So won't you skate with me to-day?
And now, our skating time is o'er, Take of your skates upon the shore: Rub them dry to keep them bright, Then scamper home with all your might.
Santa's Christmas Maze
Starting at the top, see if you can find the route Santa must take to reach the below without retracing any part of your path or crossing any of the printed lines.
I discovered these old ornaments inside a box of Christmas things two summers ago and wondered at their fragility. I knew immediately that these were made from wood shavings because my husband builds furniture in his spare time. He works so very hard and dreams of the day he will someday be free to retire and take up his craft full time, perhaps he will even build a little wood shop out back?
In any case, I have often wondered just what I could make with all of the piles of wood curls that heap up on the floors of our garage in mid-winter.
Upon I discovering these shaved beauties, I thought how delicate, how sweet! But they are too fragile! Who would invest so much energy into something as difficult to preserve as snow? Well, I suppose there must be folks on the internet who have had similar ideas...
In order to make similar ornaments like the stars shown here, you will need: a shallow plastic tub for soaking the wood curls, wood shaved curls, bobbie pins, tacky craft glue, and patience. Do not dry the wood curls in an oven as you glue these together. I know that one of the links above suggests this but visitors here should know that some trees contain natural poisons. Their toxins may be released into the environment through heat and you certainly don't want these toxins in a place where you prepare your food! Also it doesn't take very long for such fine shavings to dry out. You may place the stars near a heating vent if you need them to dry quicker.
After the wood shavings have soaked a bit, stretch these out and shape them as you like. They can be snipped apart with ordinary scissors and pined into shapes with bobbie pins or clothes pins as they dry. Then glue them into star shapes or snowflakes using tacky glue. Let them dry over night before decorating the Christmas tree or windows with them. You may use hot glue if you prefer, to assemble your creations.
A Santa Claus bookmark is a good little Christmas gift to give to someone who reads. Children may either print or trace carefully the picture of it here, or if you are a little artist draw it all by yourself, being sure to measure the chimney to get it straight. It would be better to use rather stiff white paper for your bookmark if you have it on hand. After you have drawn the front view fold the paper on the line AB and cut the outline. Now draw on the back (the part that is wrong side up in the picture), unfold, and begin the coloring with watercolor or colored pencil. If you use watercolors, don't brush the paint on too thick or it will look muddy. If you use crayon don't press down on them too hard. It looks ever so much better if it is colored lightly. Santa's hat and coat must be red trimmed with white fur, his mittens white and his beard white. His pack would look well dark green. The chimney could be red or an adobe red in color. If you could do it neatly (it may be difficult) leave the spaces between the bricks white or color these grey. After the bookmark is dry cut along the dotted line, being sure not to cut off poor Santa's head. This is so that his beard will slip over the page and keep the bookmark in place. Now fold over the back on AB, and paste the lower courses of bricks on the chimney head neatly together. Write the name of your friend and your own on the back. Someone will be very pleased with this if you make it carefully and color it well!
Click directly on the bookmark image to download the largest available file.
The clay pot cottage ornament crafted by my older daughter for Christmas this year.
To assemble this small clay pot cottage inexpensively, you may need to purchase materials from your local dollar store. However, some of you will probably have most of these supplies laying about a craft work bench or inside a cabinet for of odds and ends.
You will also need a pair of pliers to take apart a pine cone for this craft. The roof of our pot cottage has faux tiles made of scales.
Supply List:
tiny clay pots
Above are photos taken of the clay pot
cottage ornament from different angles.
Click on the image to see it enlarged.
acrylic paints
faux plants
a pinecone
scrap fabric (hanger)
oven bake clay
wooden round (base)
pebble
hot glue gun and hot glue
lead pencil
Step-by-Step Instructions:
Hot glue an inverted clay pot onto a cut wooden round to make the basic structure of the clay pot cottage.
You will not need to sand any of the surfaces before painting because of the "rustic" nature of the design. Just lightly draw out a tiny door and two windows using a soft lead pencil.
Then use acrylic paints to trim out the windows in white. Fill in the window panes using black and add tiny flowers to the window boxes. (see photos above)
After the paint dries, hot glue on a pebble for the front door step.
Then remove the scales from your dried pine cone using a tough set of pliers.
Invert the scales on top of the roof area of your inverted pot using small amounts of hot glue between each piece as you stack these.
Now hot glue the faux plant trimmings with a ribbon or fabric hanger to the top of the roof. Then trim out the rest of the faux plant decorations on the sides of the clay pot.
My daughter sculpted two tiny mushrooms from oven bake clay and baked these according to the directions on the package. Then she painted them and attached these over the painted front door.
"Hanging high upon the tree find a Christmas wish from me." These paper-cut designs were designed by Marion Thomas.
These little silhouettes suggest an idea for homemade Christmas cards. How much more friendly and personal a greeting written or printed on a card, made by the sender seems than a message picked up in a shop. If you like, cut out each of these illustrations and mount them on paper of bright red or even delicately tinted papers, measuring one and one-half inch longer and one inch wider than the paper cut. If you like, two pieces of mounting board may be tied together with a bow of Christmas ribbon to form a folder. Mount the paper cuts on the outside and write the verses for the inside of the folder.
If you are an expert in the use of scissors, you might make cards exactly like the originals of these, the designs for which were cut from white paper and mounted on red card stock. Of course this work must be very carefully done, but it will well repay the effort, for you can make cards which will have real individuality and will carry your message of love and greeting in a more personal way than any card bought at a shop. These designs might be used as patterns for cutting out the silhouettes, or you might use the actual illustrations given here, cutting away the dark background. The white figures will be in one piece, which can be carefully pasted to green or black cardboard, mounted, finished with ruled boarders. When cutting leave wide margins of paper, simply cutting away black areas, so that the paper left outside the design will hold the entire paper cut together until it has been mounted.
When cold winds blow
And there's ice and snow
Sing hey, sing ho, for the wintry weather!
Why long for Spring
And the joys 'twill bring?
'Tis Christmas time brings friends together;
And friendship shines with its warmest glow
In the days of ice and cold and snow.
Eons have passed since first it led
The wise men from afar,
Yet still there shines for each of us,
The visions of His star.
If I were old Santa Claus
Do you know what I'd do?
I'd find your stocking first of all
And fill it full for you -
Not alone with toys and games,
But things more precious still -
With Joy and Peace and Happiness
And Love and all Goodwill.
The children three upon this card
have been unus'lly good. They know they'll find their stockings full - As, of course, they should. But if they'd cross and naughty been Empty would be each stocking. They'd have to wait another year - Now isn't that quite shocking?
Cleanse with the burning log of oak The canker of thy care, Deck with the scarlet-berried bough The temple of the fair; Spread pure-white linen for a feast, Perchance some guest may share.
Give forth thy gold and silver coins, For they were lent to thee; Put out to usury thy dross, One talent gaineth three. Perchance the hungered and the poor May pray to God for thee.
Once a pale star rose in the East For watching herds to see, And weakness came to Bethlehem, And strength to Galilee. Perchance! if thou dost keep thy tryst A star may rise for thee.
"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the East to Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the East, and are come to worship him." Matthew 2: 1
No sooner was Jesus born than wise men of the Gentiles, dwelling in the East, beheld a wonderful star, which gave them notice of his birth.
1. The star appeared to give them notice of the birth of Jesus, and to guide them to him. We may think that they were singularly favored, and that if we had such a guide to lead us to Christ, we could not fail to follow it. But if no star has been given, our attention has been called to him in many and various ways. And yet we have not been like the wise men of the East; for they made no delay, but started at once to find the Savior. They were not hindered by the cost or length of the journey, and rested not until they had found him whom they sought. What a bright example for us!
2. Though the wise men had so plain an intimation from heaven, they did not neglect or despise the counsel of men. They sought direction from those who were able to instruct them. And, following that counsel, they received further help.
3. Notice the conduct of the wise men when they had found the infant Savior. They worshiped and gave offerings - "gold, frankincense, and myrrh." Christ asks of us the offering of the heart, far more precious to him than gold thrice purified in the fire. And the incense he delights in is the prayers of his saints. He requires that we show our love by keeping his commandments. Are we bringing to him these acceptable offerings? by E. Blencowe
Christmas as a festival of the Christian Church and home is familiar and endeared to us. But the last place we should seek for its observance is the battlefield, with its armed soldiers, its hatred and fury, its violent cannonading, its fierce encounters, its suffering and agony. Yet even here its blest ministry extends, its gentle presence has made itself felt and mitigated and overcome for the time at least, the brutality of war.
Such is the lesson of an incident of the Franco-Prussian War, related by an officer of the French Army.
"On the night of the 25th of December, 1870," he tells us, "after the siege of Paris, with its train of sufferings and privations - unfortunately also of outbreaks of hatred and fratricidal strife within the walls of the doomed city - had already lasted many weeks, I was in command of an advanced post in the trenches. My company, to which I had just been appointed, consisted of Parisian gardes mobiles, fine fellows, ready for any deed that required courage, but not renowned for their amenableness to discipline. It was a bitter cold night. The clear, frosty skies above us, splendidly gemmed with stars, seemed fairly to shiver; the wan half-moon illumined a vast, snow-covered, spectral plain. So close to our own were the advanced posts of the Germans that we could plainly distinguish their challenge, 'Wer Da?' (Who goes there?) and the ring of their steel-shod rifle butts on the icy ground, while they doubtless heard with equal clearness the 'Qui Vive?' of our sentries.
"The furious cannonade, and even more murderous firing from the rifle-pits, had been interrupted for a brief interval. Profound silence reigned. It was approaching midnight, and I was stamping my feet on the earth to warm myself a bit when an alert, active fellow, with finely cut features and an intelligent, energetic expression of countenance, stepped out of the line of gardes and made a curious request of me.
"'Captain,' he began, 'may I have leave of absence from the watch for a moment?'
'"Nonsense! Step back into your place instantly. Do you suppose I am less cold than you? Wait a little; when the firing begins again you'll be warm enough.'
"He did not move. Still saluting, he continued: 'Captain, I beg you, give me permission. The matter will take only a few moments. I assure you, you will not regret it.'
"'The deuce I will not! Who are you, anyhow, and what do you want to do?'
"'Who am I? Why, I am B -----,' and here he mentioned a name at that time very celebrated in the musical world. 'What I intend to do must, please, remain my own secret.'
"'Then let it remain undone. No further foolishness. If I were to let one private return to Paris tonight I might as well send back the entire company.'
'"Why, captain,' he replied, smilingly, 'I have no desire to go to Paris; I want to go in this direction,' and he pointed over towards the German lines. ' I ask for only two minutes' leave of absence.'
"His bearing and words had awakened my curiosity. I decided to grant his request, remarking as I did so that he was probably seeking his own death.
"He at once leaped out of the trench and advanced towards the enemy. In the silence of the night we heard the snow crunch under his feet, and followed with our eyes the black silhouette of his figure, which the shadow cast by the moonlight seemed mysteriously to lengthen. At ten paces distance the brave fellow stood fast, gave a military salute, and with powerful, deep-chested voice and great fervor of expression began to sing the beautiful Christ- mas hymn of the French composer Adam:
'"Minuit, Chretiens, c'est I'heure solennelle Ou rhomme-Dieu descendit jusqu' k nous.'
(""Tis midnight, Christians, the solemn hour At which the God-man descended unto us.')
"All this happened so unexpectedly, was so simple, the song itself gained such beauty and impressiveness through the outward circumstances - the night and its sacred memories, the strangely contrasted surroundings - that we Parisians, we doubters and scoffers, listened with genuine and deep emotion. The German portion of his audience must have been swayed by similar feelings. No doubt more than one among them was reminded of his far-away home, his family and the children gathered
joyously around the Christmas tree. Not a weapon was uplifted against the daring singer, no command was given, no call or steps heard. In unbroken silence the men of both armies listened to this touching reminder of their home life and their religion.
"His song ended, the brave singer saluted once more, turned on his heel and marched leisurely back to our trenches.
"'Captain, I report my return. Do you regret your permission?'
"Before I could answer, our attention was called once more to the German side, where, advancing towards us, the tall, helmeted figure of an artilleryman now became visible. Ten steps or more he moved forward, just as the other had done, halted, cooly made a military salute, and, in the midst of the wintry night, in the midst of all these armed men who for months had had no other thought than to destroy one another, he uplifted with full voice and heart a German Christmas hymn, the words and music by Martin Luther, a hymn of praise and thankfulness for the lowly Christ-child who came into the world eighteen centuries ago to bring the divine gift of love to mankind, and whom men have so poorly listened to and obeyed.
"'Vom Himmel hoch, da komm ich her, Ich bring euch gute, neue Mahr.' ("'From heaven above to earth I come. To bring glad news to every home.')
"So sang the German soldier, and cheerily his voice rang out upon the night. He ended his song with the joyous cry, 'Weihnachtszeit! Weihnachtszeit! ' (Christmas time!) And from the German trenches came in full chorus the glad refrain, 'Weihnachtszeit!' With one voice the French soldiers responded, 'Noel! Noel!' (Christmas! Christmas!) And for a brief space, at least, both hostile armies were united in a common sentiment of peace and good will on earth.
"The artilleryman slowly retraced his steps and disappeared in the trenches. An hour later the cannon from the forts resumed their angry controversy, and from the rifle pits bullets flew to and fro across the battlefield as before."
The child-spirit of old Salem is strangely contagious. For the Visitor, along with the mysterious quickening to life of his buried childhood, holy things become homely, and homely things become holy. The Christmas road of Salem, for all its sacredness, is bordered by glistening Christmas trees, and haunted by gentle old-world fancies from a Germany of long ago. Everyone, no matter how aged, has a Christmas tree and every Christmas tree has its "putz," the word used to describe the decoration, most elaborate and painstaking, of the table or platform on which the tree stands. Some of the Christmas trees that I saw, remain in my memory vivid with the individuality of their treatment. The putz is built and arranged to show a world in miniature, a world most real but small enough for elves to inhabit. No mechanism is too tiny or too intricate for skilled fingers to perfect. I saw one house a foot high, a most luxuriously furnished mansion, on which one father had toiled happily for eighteen months. The foundation of the putz is usually gray-green southern moss, in which are laid out valleys and mountains, grottoes and caves. A favorite device is a mill, seven or eight inches high, which really grinds real meal. One putz that I saw transported me straight back to the Germany of old fairy tales. It had a parapeted castle of sand paper, and in the castle grounds a ten-inch fountain tossed its recurrent jet of water, and from it a stream meandered in a curving green trough cunningly hidden. On it ducks paddled and boats floated. Men fished from a bridge. This putz was arranged with a clever eye to perspective, and was full of details surprising and fascinating, diminutive chalets clinging to gorges, tiny antlered deer taking refuge in a thicket from the huntsman and dogs, a wee, secret spring hung with ferns, cottages busy with every activity, wood-chopping, washing, cooking. There were cows in the fields, sheep upon the hills. The sheep had been made by one of the oldest of the "single sisters," one tied to her chair with rheumatism, but delighting each year to make sheep for the putzes, molding them first out of clay, then covering them with wool, and last painting them so that every feature, nose, mouth, eye, ear, is lifelike, sheep four inches long, wearing bells hung around their necks on bright Christmas ribbon.
A Christmas Putz is a small village scene beneath holiday trees.
No family's putz is ever exactly alike on two successive Christmases, although separate objects in the decorations may appear year after year. I saw one sturdy hand-made house, less than a foot in dimensions, which has served four generations in the same family. One of the most beautiful Christmas trees I saw was beautiful in significance only, for it had no ornaments and no putz. The eighty-year-old grandmother called it her "Goodwill tree," for its sole trimming was Christmas cards fluttering from every green twig, and bearing their goodwill messages from all over the world. Although weighted with years, this grandmother is still quick-eyed, quick-hearted. She has been a famous maker of putzes, but now all her Christmas decorations have been divided among the households of her sons, men all active now in the life of church and city.
Here, beside the "Goodwill tree," I heard tale after tale of the past life of Salem, heard of the old sister, who, living in the community of the Sisters' House, used to steal down to the big kitchen after the rest were in bed, and gather all the scraps into her capacious apron; then she would open the door and softly call all the stray cats and dogs of the neighborhood to a midnight feast; and I heard of the gentle old man, who, coming to spend his last years in the shelter of the "Gemein Haus" of Salem, preferred that people call him not by his real name, Wolf, but address him always as Mr. Schaf and then, unforgettably, I heard of "little Betsey." Of all the kindly dead who still people the chat of old Salem, "little Betsey" stands out vividest in my memory. She lived to her seventies, and she has been seventy years dead, and yet of the many who as children knew her, not one of them ever speaks of her except as "little Betsey." A tiny woman, they have told me, always petted and shielded by two efficient elder sisters, and, so it would seem, by everybody else as well.
Little Betsey had been from three years old stone-deaf. She spoke all her life the German baby talk she had used when scarlet fever closed her ears forever. But this is not all, she kept until death the fancies she had at three, she believed always that angels carried a dead body straight from the grave to heaven. "No," people would assure me, "little Betsey was not queer, or lacking; little Betsey was as bright as anybody, it was just that after she was deaf people never told her sad things, so she stayed a child always." Bowed, old people have told me how they remember little Betsey, a tiny old woman, radiantly happy to be useful, coming to help them, when they were wee things, to lift the heavy mugs at the children's Christmas love-feasts of long, long ago.
There, by the "Goodwill tree" I saw and handled some of little Betsey's toys, which she had cherished to the end. There are two tiny carafes with infinitesimal stoppers, and a wee fluted goblet, all three only an inch and a half high, but beautiful in shape, slender bits of thinnest crystal brushed with gold. With the tiny doll and bed two inches long, little Betsey used to make every Christmas a manger scene. The doll is all of wax, and wears a little straight dress tied with a sash, the short black hair is demurely parted, the little red painted slippers are undimmed. You can hold little Betsey's toys in the palm of one hand, but far better than if they were larger, they have a spell to bring back the child heart that loved them. I can picture the joy with which she fashioned a manger out of this little bed of faded pink silk. Words of a poem I have read somewhere come back to me, spoken by the Madonna to the little baby on her lap,
" I have grown wise with littleness.
The Lord of Life is king of prettiness."
I wonder if anywhere but in Salem there could have lived a little Betsey. I wonder if anywhere but in this city founded on faith in a Child, people would have so tenderly conspired to protect a stricken woman from the sadness of growing up.
There is in Salem an old star-maker. He has showed me his stars and explained their manufacture. The rays are made of many long slim cones of white paper, the whole illumined by a concealed electric bulb. The star-maker is eighty-seven and still goes every day to his desk in a business office. In off hours he makes his stars and built his putz. He lives in a little fading brick house, which, hidden by boxwood and ivy, looks like a Christmas card.
Above the old doorway shines one of his white-rayed stars. Together he and his daughter trimmed their Christmas tree and made their putz. The putz represented a tiny forest hamlet in the old legendary fatherland. Little lighted houses looked out from shadowy green. Every wee shingle on the steep roofs had been carefully whittled. A little church out of some fairy tale showed ruddy windows and pushed its steeple up into the overhanging spruce twigs. Elfin footpaths climbed tiny hills. The star-maker had recaptured old, old child-dreams to make his putz. While I gazed at it, caught back myself to a childhood road all magic with lights and haunted shadows, I happened suddenly to look up, out of the window. There in strange juxtaposition to the enchanted elf-world of the Christmas putz, an airplane went soaring beyond the high, bare branches.
But it was not an old man who built the most magical of all the Christmas putzes, that one which of all my memories of the Christmas city, will always be the most poignant and the most significant, a memory deeper, sharper than the solemn beauty of the Christmas-Eve love-feasts or the profound reverence of the memorabilia service of the New Year. Dreamily I shall always recall the magical pathway of Christmas week, every morning I woke to a world misted by silvery fog and brushed by gleaming frost; soft blue haze wrapped the farther trees, haze soon burned away by the mild December sun; just outside my window on Christmas morning, a cardinal, flashing bright from a silver-misted tree, shrilled out a carol. But these things were of the daylight and may fade, while another picture grows only sharper.
It is a commonplace to say that the faith that built cathedrals is gone, that the ecstasy of confidence in which mediaeval architects conceived the Gothic arch, and masons carved angel faces on stones is perished from the earth, but in Salem I saw the Christmas road to Bethlehem constructed, immortally fresh and real, out of mere paper and pasteboard and boxes. It is not necessary in order to conceive a dream and give it concrete expression, that a man be himself a dreamer or a poet. The man who made for his two children the most beautiful Christmas putz in Salem, is a practical and prosperous young business man. With wholly instinctive skill in perspective, in color and lighting, above all in subjection of every detail to one central idea, he had built on a low platform a picture which held everyone absolutely silent. People might enter the room full of Christmas bustle and chatter, but in a few moments there would be utter stillness, "I made it," the artist told me, "from an old Bible picture, and from my thoughts."
Every evening during my two weeks in Salem I crossed the street to visit that softly lighted scene of Bethlehem. To the right the Christmas tree towered to the ceiling, but it was merely symbolic of Christmas cheer and fancy, standing all in shadow except as the rays of the star glistened on spruce twig and tinsel. In the dusk below the tree, sheep glimmered, and in the shadow at the back, far away in the distance, there rose the cone of a snowy mountain. To the left of the tree a huddled Oriental village went climbing. The dim walls had tiny slits of windows, ruddy in the near perspective, fading to white and then to darkness beyond. Slowly and mysteriously as one looked, shapes of men and of animals came to life out of the gloom. All the wall of the room was covered with dark blue paper on which gleamed silver stars forming the constellations. The light came from two spots only, the upper one the diffused radiance, pure white, from a single star hung from the ceiling, and the lower, the ruddy outpouring from a stable cave below the farthest walls of the shadowy, climbing town.
All the rosy glow from the cave was concentrated within on a tiny naked baby wearing a shining diadem. The figures of the Nativity scene had been bought from a Syrian art dealer and were extraordinarily lifelike. Over the baby's form Mary bent, blue-robed, and Joseph stood near by. Ass and ox gazed wonderingly at the bright manger. In the doorway of the cave knelt the first of the three wise men, a turbanned, robed figure, holding out his gift of gold. Below on the slope of the hill, all in the streaming light from the cave there came an Oriental shepherd, one of his sheep tied by its feet around his neck. Other sheep and other shepherds were discernible on the far hill beyond the town. Slowly as one looked there came looming out of the dusk to the right of the cave, nearer the tree, the shapes of three camels, much larger in scale than any of the other animals, because realistically nearer in perspective. Beside their camels stepped the richly robed figures of the other two wise men.
The effect of the lighting was magical. Beneath the star the shadows on the flat roofs were ink-black, mysterious with a sense of the crowded Oriental life beneath. It seemed incredible that all Bethlehem could lie so heavily asleep with this miracle of sky and cave to be seen for the mere opening of holden eyes. Yet while all Royal David's city lay unmindful, having turned away a king, a wise man from afar was kneeling at the shining stable door, motionless in an ecstasy of worship. In all that scene the only people who were aware were shepherds, untaught men schooled to faith by watching the nightly pageantry of the sky, and scholars, men made humble by long study of the luminous mystery of the constellations. In the quiet hour before the year's end, I sat gazing at this newly made scene of Bethlehem. In delicate etching of utter grace the branches of the Christmastree were thrown in shadow upon the deep blue wall. The light from the tiny cave shone forth in steadfast glory. Curiously summoned both the shepherds and the seers had set out on a road heavy with dangers, bordered on either side by black mystery, and at the end they had found, so said the faith that had constructed this Christmas putz in old Salem ‚at the end of their road they had found a shining Child and an unquenchable Star. W. Kirkland
A Christmas village (or putz) is a decorative, miniature-scale village often set up during the Christmas season. These villages are rooted in the elaborate Christmas traditions of the Moravian church, a Protestant denomination. Mass-produced cardboard Christmas villages became popular in the United States during the early and mid-20th century, while porcelain versions became popular in the later part of the century.Read more...
* I believe in Santa Claus.
* I believe no hair is snowier, no cheeks redder, no smile merrier and no eyes more twinkling than his.
* I believe the heart of him is big enough to encompass the world -- if people would let it!
* I believe in the jingle of his sleigh bells, the swiftness of his reindeer, the sound of their tapping feet on the roof.
* I believe in chimneys, big broad, deep-throated chimneys that will not cramp the Merry Gentleman with his bulging pack.
* I believe in solemn rows of stockings hanging by the fire - father's
short one, mother's long one and the dangling ones of the children, all
waiting and expectant.
* I believe in the invisible blossom of happiness that Santa Claus
leaves at every house, and I believe that it will grow through all the
year if people try to keep the spirit of Christmas every day!
These plum pudding illustrations in red, green and black are for you personal cards and invitations only, enjoy!
Have a question about the illustration?
Just type it in the comment box and I'll get back to you as soon as
possible. I only publish content that is closely related to the subject,
folks.
Modern Christians often teach that it was a whale who swallowed Jonah in order to transport him safely between the waters surrounding Tarshish to the port of Joppa. However, the Bible says that he was swallowed by a great fish. Which may have been a whale, presuming that whoever wrote the book of Jonah did not know the difference between fish and swimming mammals.
My finished ornament of Jonah and the giant whale. This ornament is made from cotton batting, dryer lint and toothpicks.
"Now the LORD provided a huge fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. From inside the fish Jonah prayed to the LORD his God. He said: "In my distress I called to the LORD, and he answered me. From
deep in the realm of the dead I called for help, and you listened to my
cry. You hurled me into the depths, into the very heart of the seas, and the
currents swirled about me; all your waves and breakers swept over me.I said, 'I have been banished from your sight; yet I will look again toward your holy temple.'The engulfing waters threatened me, the deep surrounded me; seaweed was wrapped around my head. To the roots of the mountains I sank down; the earth beneath barred me
in forever. But you, LORD my God, brought my life up from the pit. "When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, LORD, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy temple."Those who cling to worthless idols turn away from God's love for them. But I, with shouts of grateful praise, will sacrifice to you. What I
have vowed I will make good. I will say, 'Salvation comes from the
LORD.'" And the LORD commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land. Then the word of the LORD came to Jonah a second time: "Go to the city of Nineveh and proclaim to it the message I give you." Jonah obeyed the word of the LORD and went to Nineveh. ( A 550 mile journey from the port of Joppa!) Now Nineveh was a very large city; it took three days to go through it." Jonah 1:17 through Jonah 3:3 (NIV)
Whether or not you believe that he was saved by a swimming mammal or giant fish, this symbol will certainly remind any believer who would like to include the stubborn old prophet, Jonah, on their Jesse Tree this Christmas that he was also recorded to be in the lineage of King David and therefore in the family of Christ as well.
Above is the plastic, green sperm whale my brothers played with when we were kids. Keep in mind, it is important to learn to sculpt three
dimensional objects by touch. Examination with both the hands and eyes,
will help your brain to relay information back to your hands quicker and
with more accuracy. This is for educational purposes mind you. After
you have learned to sculpt sample prototypes, you must make your own
unique models for profit because of copyright laws.
Supply List:
newsprint
masking tape
white school glue
dryer lint (grey)
paper mache' pulp
plastic sperm whale (toy)
small black beads for eyes (two)
wire
wooden toothpicks
few white cotton balls
Exacto knife
acrylic paints for Jonah's body
Right, featured: "A Sperm Whale Encounter" by Howard Hall, students may observe the size, and coloration of sperm whales.
Jonah tossed about above the blow hole of a super large whale.
Step-by-Step Instructions:
Touch and examine the model whale carefully. Spend time looking at its properties while running your fingertips over the surface of the whale.
Now crush and mask with tape a similar shape.
Use a knife to dent the surface area for a bead on either side of the
whale's head. Glue these beads into place. You many use a small amount
of tape to keep the eyes in position while the glue dries.
Mix together the paper pulp according to the directions on the package.
You may add a bit of glue to your water while you dampen the pulp to give it extra strength.
Let the paper mache' stiffen and dry out before layering glue and dryer lint onto it's surface. Keep your work in a dry, warm area so that it will harden quickly.
I worked in some white areas with a bit of unraveled cotton on the whale's belly because I preferred the coloration.
Dig out a hole in the top of the whales head for it's spout.
Cut wire pieces and roll glue with unraveled cotton between the palms of your hands.
Twist these wire into curls. Then bind them together to mimic a fountain of water spray. (see photograph)
Glue this water spray into the 1/2 inch hole for it's spout.
Cover any torn or disturbed areas around the spout with additional grey lint.
Now cut off, with your Exacto knife, the sharp tips of many toothpicks. These will become the teeth of the sperm whale. Glue them in place between the jaws.
Next you will need to shape a small man from a half piece of toothpick and cotton wading; this is Jonah.
Between your fingertips, wad and roll a bit of cotton and white glue for Jonah's head. Then glue it the end of a broken toothpick and let it dry.
Now twist another bit of batting around the toothpick to resemble a basic body shape. You can glue a second, shorter toothpick to the upper torso to make his arms. Wrap the figure with cotton until it looks like a miniature human. Give him a beard.
After Jonah dries, paint his coat, beard and head with acrylic paints.
Glue Jonah to the wire water spout or to the inside of the whales jaws.
CHRIST'S coming inaugurated among men a new era of good will, and as a consequence thrones are tottering, chains are loosening, prison doors are opening and practical Christian beneficence is flooding the world with sunshine and fills it with songs of gladness. - Rev. Dr. P. S. Henson.
HERE is that "glad tidings," that gospel of "great joy" of which the angel spake to the wondering shepherds -- this announcement of God's love for man and man's sonship to God. And these "glad tidings" are for "all people," so the angel said. There is not a single soul to whom the tidings of Christmas come that is not assured of the love of the almighty and infinite Father.
REFORM ye, then -- so sounds the voice of the Eternal Spirit, the power back of evolution -- reform ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand! So we may gird ourselves to every task of reform with new hope and fresh enthusiasm and ring our Christmas bells again. - Rev. Dr. R. Herber Newton.
IT may be that in every gift, with which at this blessed Christmastide we gladden our children's hearts we are the Magi again offering treasure to the Holy Child. We may make it so. But richer gifts than these will be required. Our endurance shall be our gift to him who gave himself. Is there toil for us, that we may honor him? Is there self denial? Are there holy consecrations and humble service, that shall make the world at last a spotless sacrifice to him who purchased it?
SO we keep Christmas because of its good tidings of great joy. The season of its occurrence is our ripest time. The north wind and the snow in that wind have made us what we are. It drove us to the hearth, to the sacred fires of the inner circle, to the building of the keystone in the arch of our civilization, the home of the Christian man. - Rev. Dr. S. P. Cadman.
TODAY all institutions are beginning to imitate the wise men from the east, who brought to the Divine Child their gold and aromatic spices their frankincense and treasure. Christ's estimate of the value of childhood has conquered the world. His thought of childhood is the very heart and genius of Christian civilization. - Rev. Dr. Newell Dwight Hillis.
MORNING, noon and night, for breakfast, dinner and supper, the first thing on awaking and the last thing on going to sleep, every hour of every day of every week of every month of the year we want the spirit of Christmas, for it is the spirit of ministration, of giving, of service, of doing for others. - Rev. Dr. Francis E. Clark
AND did you ever think what a peculiarly blessed sound in the ears of those watching shepherds of the valley of Bethlehem was the announcement of the angels, "Christ has come?" Ever since the gate of paradise was shut against our first parents his advent had been looked forward to as the hope of a lost world.
STILL there is call for strenuous endeavor and constant fight against evils without and within, as though God would remind us that this is not our rest, that the true holiday (holy day, as it used to be written) is above at his right hand. - Rev. Dr. P. S. Henson.
I used vintage looking wrapping paper to cover this plastic bell shape. The "bell" was made from a recycled fruit cup.
Here is a bit of an update to a classic kindergarten Christmas craft. In the past little ones have used paper cups for a similar bell shape. I've replaced that material here with a sturdier recycled, plastic fruit cup. Don't forget to add the jingle-bell for sound!
Supply List:
scrap wrapping paper
masking tape
recycled bell shaped plastic food containers
wire for the hanger
tiny jingle-bell
Mod Podge
white transparent glitter
stickers (optional)
Step-by-Step Instructions:
Wash and dry plastic containers that once had food stuffs stored inside them.
Poke a hole through the bottom of the container in order to twist a wire through for a hanger at the end of the craft process. Keep this hole clean from masking tape and paper mache.
Cover the entire surface of the plastic container with masking tape, both inside and out.
Using Mod Podge, layer clippings from wrapping paper both inside and out.
You can also use stickers to decorate your bell. I've included a sample bell below showing Nativity stickers.
Cover a wire with white tape or cotton batting and insert it through the hole, stringing a small jingle bell through it on the inside of the bell shaped ornament. Twist the wire in place.
The plastic fruit containers are covered completely in masking tape before the paper mache
process is applied. This helps the glue to stick properly to the smooth surfaces.
Sample Christmas bell crafted with Nativity stickers.
