In the year 1512, Martin Luther received his doctorate in Theology and began his work as a Professor of Theology at the University of Wittenburg. In 1525, he married Katharina von Bora and together they had six children. The Augustinian monastery of Wittenberg, where Luther had been a monk, was disbanded as the reformation began. Part of it was a residence hall for students and the rest was given to Luther to use as a family home. It is during that time that a particular event might have occurred.

My memories of Christmas are filled with family, toys, fruits, fireworks. I quit giving Christmas gifts years ago to those who could buy them. The wise men brought gifts to a child. I look for "my child." They are in dark doorways out of sight from the glitter of Christmas. Their hopes have been dashed. I don't know them. They don't know me. Consider during this season in the land of plenty reaching out and helping someone find hope for a better tomorrow.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

Shirley Medlin Pace @1960sparkey
From The Book... The House That Mike Built
It is Christmas Again (2016)

The stuff Christmas is made of... It may be your favorite time of the year... The crowds in the malls, the smell of pine, spices and food cooking fill the air with aromas that are timeless.

Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
By Francis P. Church, first published in The New York Sun in 1897.
[See The People’s Almanac, pp. 1358–9.]
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication
below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its
faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

It was the typical Christmas pageant.
Miss Lumbard was trying to assign all the children
to their appropriate roles.

I once was a cuddly kitten,
But now I am a stray,

'Cause when I was no
longer fluffy, They sent
me on my way.

Shirley Medlin Pace @1960sparkey

My only child, Mike, was killed in a hunting accident at the age of twenty-three,
November 26, 1983, two days after Thanksgiving. I wanted to die. Death
snatches your joy and happiness. Death fills every waking moment and
becomes your bedfellow at night. In the end, love wins and life goes on.

From the Book I am writing The House That Mike Built.