Proof The Bible Is True

I grew up believing that Christmas was a time when strange and wonderful things happened, when wise and royal visitors came riding, when at midnight the barnyard animals talked to one another, and in the light of a fabulous star God came down to us as a little Child.

 

Christmas to me has always been a time of enchantment, and never more so than the year that my son Marty was eight.

 

That was the year that my children and I moved into a cozy trailer home in a forested area just outside of Redmond, Washington. As the holiday approached, our spirits were light, not to be dampened even by the winter rains that swept down Puget Sound to douse our home and make our floors muddy.

 

 

Throughout that December Marty had been the most spirited, and busiest, of us all. He was my youngest, a cheerful boy. blond-haired and playful, with a quaint habit of looking up at you and cocking his head like a puppy when you talked to him. Actually the reason for this was that Marty was deaf in his left ear. but it was a condition that he never complained about.

 

Read More: An Exchange of Christmas Miracles – Page 1 | Guideposts