Poor Charlie Brown. For over 50 Christmases the same frustrated question has wailed from his mouth - "Can anyone tell me what Christmas is really all about?!"
My eight-year-old son could have told him. We were at the kitchen table devouring a Christmas Eve pizza, eager to start opening gifts. That's when the call came. Our kids sort of groaned collectively.
It was Wilma, the assistant principal at a tough inner city elementary school. She apologized for interrupting us on Christmas Eve (no apology needed), but she was desperate. She was trying to rescue Christmas for some...
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