A guest post by Kris Kringle I told you last year that I thought Kris Kringle had a great thing going, and that I fully intended on encro...

Resting up for the night ahead . . . Christmas Eve and the family is gathering. May all of your moments be bright this Christ...

Christmas Elf: Caught in the Act . . . It started out ordinarily enough. Dad waving from the driveway as he started the long drive ...

Oh sure. He's looks innocent here . . . Christmas morning, the exciting, present-opening part, was inevitably on hold until the ki...

We have a tradition in our home. Well, several, actually. But I'm only going to talk about this one . . . Pajamas.  On Christmas e...

Who loves Christmas more? Where we live, in largely Christian Alberta, it’s a fairly popular holiday. With a slow build-up in ad...

A true story. 1981. Carol’s big suburban slid into the parking lot of the Native Friendship Centre in Slave Lake. Her boss met her i...

That day. Missing: The pants My siblings and I loved to ski. Our Dad had introduced us to it the winter I turned eight and it ha...

My Hero December. My four-year-old mind was a haze, I’d been locked in the house as it snowed for three days. Then quite suddenly,...

Ready to tour. The Milk River 4H Beef Club was the brain-child of my Dad. He lived in an agricultural area w here most of the famili...

On the night before Christmas, long hours ahead The toddler still up, I’d just got her to bed. The stockings were hung in a haphazard r...

Terrifying. I was four.  Going Christmas shopping with my Mom in the great city of Lethbridge. And it was the most exciting time ev...