Near the end of one of his sermons several years ago, Dad encouraged the congregation to spend a few minutes thinking about what made Christmas special. Then, he went on to share some of his personal experiences from Christmas with them.

First, he held up a Christmas banner that was a gift to our family from Dick and Genevieve Bell, members of a church Dad once served in Clayton. Tears brimmed in my eyes as Dad talked about Dick and Genevieve. I was only 12 when we moved to Clayton, but I still remember Dick greeting us on moving day. His arms were extended and a wide smile stretched across his face. He made us feel like Clayton was home although we had only been there a few hours. Dick's brilliant smile and twinkling eyes were like a Christmas present on that early June day.

Next, Dad showed the congregation a Christmas ornament that had been given to us by "Miss Lib'" Adkins. "Miss Lib" played the piano and organ at Dad's third appointment, the Robersonville United Methodist Church. One year at the Christmas Eve service, "Miss Lib" convinced me to sing Let There Be Peace on Earth in front of the congregation. These days, I leave the singing to those with more elegant voices, but I still cherish that memory. "Miss Lib's" gone now. She died many years ago at the age of 88.

Driving home from church after Dad's sermon that Sunday, I began to think about others who had worked so hard to make my Christmas's special. One of the first names that came to my mind was Bernard Jenkins, a farmer who belonged to the Robersonville Church. Late one Christmas Eve, Mr. Bernard braved the chilly temperature to ring bells outside my bedroom window. I jumped out from under my warm covers, dashed into my parent's room and in a loud voice declared that Santa Claus was here.

"I heard his sleigh bells," I exclaimed to my Dad, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. "His sleigh must be right outside my window."

Like "Miss Lib," Mr. Bernard is no longer here. He died in a freak accident thirty years ago while he was cutting down a tree. Not many days pass when I don't think about Mr. Bernard. His positive influence on my early years is one of the main reasons why I write this column. He taught me so much about love, kindness and compassion that if would be a sin for me not to share his wisdom with others. He was a great man.

After Mr. Bernard, my thoughts turned to Grandma "Tink." She harbored a deep passion for Christmas that I have yet to see matched. The day after Thanksgiving she would climb into her attic and retrieve her Christmas decorations. Then, she would spend the next couple of weeks preparing her home for the season. When she was finished, there wasn't a corner in her house that wasn't decorated. She deeply believed that Christmas was about giving and she gave all that she could to us.

This Holiday Season do something to fill your Christmas Memory Bank. It can be as simple as taking a tin of cookies to the local orphanage, or singing Christmas Carols at a nearby rest home. A few years from now, when your department store gifts have lost their luster and shine, you'll still have your Christmas Memory Bank. And, the love that's in it can keep you rich for a lifetime.