In an old shingled house in the poor side of town lived a sweet gentle lady we called Mary Brown. Now the story she told of the lovely blue spruce as she gazed out her window each day. How her Fred had planted the beautiful spruce on the day he was taken away.

Our visits to Mary were always a joy. Each child was rewarded with some little toy and I with a basket of jellies and bread for the children were always so glad to be fed.

Mary would give from her heart and she'd say love becomes love when you give it away. That she gave from her heart we all knew for the love Mary gave was so graciously true.

The holiday season was up in a roar. Decorations of holly and toys in each store. The children so blissful and gay, thus anxiously dreamed of the marvelous day.

Now that the Christmas Eve at the Doctors was spent. For my husband was ill for sometime. That left pockets so empty with neither a dime.

So I got in my car and I headed for home to face what awaited me there. For I painfully knew that our cuboards were bare. There'd be no Christmas gifts for the children you see... and to make matters worse, not even a tree. Mary cared for the children while we were away and with joy decorated our house in such brilliant array. The garland was hung in elegance, rare every corner was lit not as dim spot to spare.

The aroma of turkey and blueberry pie which she set on the table to dazzle the eye. And there by the window in statuesque flare stood the beautiful delicate spruce. The spruce Mary loved and admired each day, the one Fred had planted the day he was taken away.

Bright ornaments glimmered with lights all in blue and the spruce was adorned like a gift with a bow. Other gifts Mary spent many nights to prepare, neath the delicate spruce in a row.

I held Mary Brown in a tender embrace and she wiped away teardrops of joy from my face. Through rapturous laughter I heard Mary say... Love becomes love when you give it away.

Leviticus 19:18: Love your neighbor as yourself.