I got stuff I've wanted from friends and family who love me, but I also got this in the local newspaper, and would like to share it with all of you:

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Christmas is much more than gifts By MICHAEL DeVAUGHN Guest Column

I learned the true meaning of Christmas in December 1991, when I was pastoring one of my first churches in Midland.

I remember this Christmas in particular because my mother was in the last stages of breast cancer. The doctors had told me she wouldn't make it until Thanksgiving, but it was Christmas and we were still together.

All of this was weighing heavily on my mind, and suddenly it was Christmas. I had no Christmas spirit whatsoever. None.

I tried to put up a tree, but it wouldn't fit into the tree holder. In true Grinch style, after struggling with it for more than an hour, I dragged it into the back yard and gave it a good toss. The neighbors came over later that evening and put up the tree. With no Christmas spirit, at least on my part, we did have a tree.

Christmas morning came, and about 9 the doorbell rang. A young child of about 10 years old was standing on the porch, and I noticed a shiny new bicycle leaning against the steps.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"My mother told me to tell you that Santa Claus forgot to visit the kids next door to us," he said.

I spoke with him more and obtained all of the details. A family on his street had awakened with nothing under the tree for Christmas. The mother, who was wheelchair bound, and her four children lived alone. The young boy's mother thought he should come over in person and bring this to my attention.

After speaking to the mother on the telephone and confirming this was true, I called my good friend Dr. Viola Coleman and told her about my young visitor; that somehow, the mother had fallen through the cracks of the social agencies, and the children had received nothing for Christmas.

She asked me if any of the stores were open, and I mentioned to her that I had just returned from Walgreen's.

"Meet me at my house in an hour," she said.

In one hour I was there. When I arrived, Dr. Coleman pulled up in the driveway and the back of her van was loaded with boxes of Christmas gifts - radios, dolls, tape players, puzzles. It was amazing. Everything a child could possibly want or need for Christmas was in the back of her van.

"Take these to the children you called about," she said.

"What will I tell them?" I asked.

"You'll think of something," she replied.

I loaded the items up and drove to the home where the children lived. I took one box out of the car and carried it with me to the house. When I knocked on the door, two little girls opened the door, with their mother watching from the sofa.

"I'm sorry." I said. "There seems to have been a terrible mistake. Santa left a whole lot of toys at my house, but he had the wrong address."

I looked at the box and read one of the girl's names. They both began to jump up and down, yelling, "That's us! That's us! That's us!" at the top of their lungs.

Together, we quickly unloaded the car, and the children where exuberant. I never will forget the joy on their faces as they tore open packages, tried on hats and gloves, and placed batteries in their radios. It was overwhelming.

As I drove home, I thought about what had just happened in light of my own personal struggles with my mother's illness and her imminent death. I learned then, and have always remembered, that the true meaning of Christmas is to bring happiness into the lives of others.

It's not about what we have, or what pain and suffering we have endured, but it is about our capacity to live beyond these tribulations, to live outside of ourselves, and in the process bring joy, hope and love into the lives of others.

I decided to place my sorrow on a back shelf and make this the best Christmas my mother ever had. I was like Scrooge waking up on Christmas morning after having been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past. I saw things differently.

My mother passed away shortly after Christmas, but my experience with Dr. Coleman and the children grounded me and helped open my eyes. Even in my sorrow, at Christmas, I was able to bring joy into the life of someone else.

Just as the Christ child lying in the manger brought great joy to humankind, this Christmas I challenge you to forget about yourself - for just one day.

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Michael DeVaughn is minister of Amarillo's Carter Chapel Christian Methodist Episcopal Church.