Christmas Lesson Esl

[Malene Mederios]

HiI love this idea for a lesson! I'm going to try and do it for my lesson next Sunday. But for some reason I'm unable to view the video you used. Could you please let me know via here or email which one you used? Also i would love the link to the cards you used as well! Thank you!

I combined pieces of several different films along with different Christmas hymns, and some videos from mormon.org. The point of the lesson was for no one to talk. It was to be a time for reflection on the Savior, His birth, life, and His death/resurrection. To go along with the video, I created a booklet that had scriptures, quotes, thoughts, and prompts for the girls to follow along with the video. I also put a few places in the video with just a song, so they could take time to write their thoughts down in the booklet.

It was the first time I had ever been part of a lesson like that and the Spirit was very strong! I brought a small Christmas tree, LED candles, and some lights to put on the table. We had just one bank of lights on so the girls could see their booklets.

Here are all of the downloads. For the nativity one, I printed it out on cardstock. I found some mini star ornaments at Hobby Lobby and tapes the string to the back of the handout so the star would sit on the top of the stable over its picture.

Or, to make it easier, you can always print them one sided and then cut them in half. The right sides are the first pages (cover and pages 1-4) and then page 5 starts on the last page, left side and then works forward. So, the first page of the download has the cover on the right and the last page on the left. The next, has page 1 on the right and page 8 on the left. The next is page 2 and page 7, then page 3 and page 6, and the last is 4 and 5. Make sense? If you have questions, just let me know ?

This is a true story and I believethat its message is an important one.

Although the setting is Christmas, it is not truly a Christmasstory.

Rather it is a story of love, of giving and of family.

My three brothers and I were raised in arelatively typical household in a small city in central Massachusetts.Most of my childhood memories are good ones...and the best memoriescenter around the holidays. Halloween, birthdays, IndependenceDay and Thanksgiving were all very special around our house. Butnothing...NOTHING...could hold a candle to CHRISTMAS!

Every Christmas was steeped in unique holidaytraditions. These rituals were as constant as the Christmas starand this consistency brought great comfort and excitement to meand my three brothers. The series of events was unwavering: Onthe afternoon of the day before Christmas, my Dad would give eachof us a five dollar bill. Our task (and our great joy!) was togo to our town's Main Street with a mission...to buy a gift foreach member of the family. One dollar per gift...careful, thoughtful,selective shopping could stretch that dollar very far!

Upon returning home from our shopping spree,we would wrap the gifts and prepare for the rituals that wereChristmas Eve. Again, the sequence of events never varied...aspecial Christmas Eve dinner of spaghetti and meatballs...followedby THE OPENING and THE READING.

THE OPENING was a time-worn tradition whereineach of us could select one gift from under the tree to open afterdinner. Great planning and forethought accompanied the selectionof the gift that we would open and I had recurring nightmaresof opening a brightly colored box on Christmas Eve and findingMITTENS! The correct choice was, of course, a toy or game to playwith before retiring on Christmas Eve.

Following THE OPENING came THE READING.My father would gather the four of us around his overstuffed chairand read us Clement Moore's classic "Twas the Night BeforeChristmas" poem from a battered old book held together withelectrical tape. Pages were town and missing and I am sure thathe was forced to recall much of it from memory. Certainly thousandsof American families followed an identical ritual, but to us itwas uniquely ours.

After THE READING, we played with our newlyopened toys and prepared (reluctantly) for bed, sugar plums, andso on. Like all little boys, we would whisper long into the night.We fought the age-old battle of wanting to stay awake...but knowingthe consequences of being wakeful when HE arrived.

On December 24, 1957 I was eight years oldand my brother Jim was five. We were very close and shared anexceptionally warm relationship. He was my brother, but he wasalso my friend! I cherished that friendship then as I do today.

It was bitterly cold and the town was blanketedwith snow from three early, but welcome, snowfalls. Jim and Iwere clutching our crisp five dollar bills as we ran toward MainStreet to buy gifts. Past the jewelers, past the hardware store,past the bowling alley...we headed for our ultimate destination:W.T. Grants! Nowhere else on the promenade could two eager brothersconvert five dollars into valued gifts for our five loved ones.

I was rummaging through the orange boxesof Hartz Mountain Hamster Food for my brother Tom's menageriewhen Jim came up behind me. "I found it!" he squealed,"I found it! The perfect gift for you...it's the best! Waituntil you see it. You've got to open it tonight!"

I cannot recall ever seeing Jim so excitedand he jabbered about the special gift for the rest of the excursion.During our walk home he continued to attempt to secure a promisefrom me...the promise that I would select HIS gift to open thatnight after supper. I was unwilling to commit to this course ofaction, although I was learning in his direction. After all, Jimknew the rituals as well as I did and he surely would not selecta gift that I could not play with on Christmas Eve!

As we walked home braced against the coldDecember wind, Jim continued his onslaught. Suddenly, in midsentence,he stepped on a patch of ice that was covered with a light coatingof snow. His feet went out from under him and the precious parcelsthat he had been clutching tightly to his chest flew out of hishands. In mid-air, in the manner of a cartoon character, he shouted,"Don't look, Rick- I don't want you to see your present!"

The Grants bag slid across the ice, tatteringand tearing as it skidded along the surface, and came to restagainst a small snowbank. As it lay there, I could clearly seethe gift that Jim had purchased for me...a Jumbo Santa Claus Coloringand Cut-Out Book complete with tracing paper. A fine gift, indeed.

"Did you see it? Did you see it?"Jim stammered as he leaped on the bag. I assured him that I hadn't(after all, I was the older brother) and he calmed down quickly.We continued our journey home and Jim maintained his constantstream of requests that I select his gift as the one to open thatevening.

Now I had a dilemma. I knew how badly Jimwanted me to select his gift...but it was my Christmas, too. And,frankly, my eight year old mind saw little purpose in openinga coloring book on Christmas Eve...not when Uncle Dave's packagesgenerally held a truck or a gun or (dare I wish) a Slinky. Throughoutthe late afternoon, Jim used every opportunity to continue hispublic relations attack. The more he pleaded, the more firm Ibecome in my resolve that I would open Uncle Dave's gift - althoughI never shared this information with Jim.

I was puzzled by Jim's ongoing barrage.It was unlike him to be so insistent. And this situation was notin keeping with the sacred traditions of the Christmas Eve ritual...thateach family member was free to make this decision independently,without interference or undue pressure. Such unspoken rules areour only defense against holiday anarchy!

We sat down to supper and amid the clatterand chatter Jim continued to plead his case. Finally, my fatherinterceded and reminded Jim that this was Rick's decision. Myfather then looked at me and I believe he was assured that I woulddo the right thing. He had more confidence in me that I did inmyself.

Following the meal, we encircled the treefor THE OPENING. Jim thrust the gift into my hands and lookedat me hopefully. The size and shape of the gift confirmed thatis was indeed, the coloring book. My decision was made. I didnot want to disappoint Jim but I was not going to be put in theposition of coloring all Christmas Eve while my brothers playedwith real toys. I would open Uncle Dave's gift...and Jim wouldhave to understand. I would open Jim's gift on Christmas Day.And I would let him color in it with me after Church Services.But Christmas Eve was a night for toys.

I put Jim's gift back under the tree andpicked up Dave's present. I shook it, listened to it and heldit up to the light. Yes, this would be my Christmas Eve gift.When my turn came, I torn it open. Dave had surpassed my wildestexpectations...a Mattel Fanner 50 Repeating Cap Pistol. I turnedto show my new prize to Jim and was surprised to see him sittingon the couch, tears in his eyes and his gift to me in his lap.He fingered it gently, lost in thought.

"What a baby" I thought. I couldnot believe that he was going to spoil his Christmas Eve. My mothercalled Jim to the tree and told him that it was his turn to opena gift. He selected one, almost at random and slowly tore awaythe wrappings. It was a Mr. Wizard Junior Chemistry Set! Surelythat would bring a smile to his face. But it didn't. He openedthe box, looked at the chemicals and plastic test tubes, and putit back under the tree.

As my two older brothers and I played, Icouldn't but notice Jim. He sat quietly in my father's big chairin his blue pajamas holding his gift to me on his lap. I was confused...andmaybe a little guilty...but it was Christmas Eve and my job descriptionas an eight-year old required playing and frolicking. So playand frolic I did.

After an hour or so, my parents restoredorder and we all gathered around my father's chair for THE READING.He took out the battered old Night Before Christmas Book thatsat on the bookshelf 364 days of each year and began to read theholiday classic to us. We all laughed as he struggled to holdthe loose pages together while he ad-libbed missing pages. Weall laughed, except Jim. He sat sullenly; not angry, not sad...justdejected.

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