do not try to measure our kindnesses to the capacity of our friends.
Friendship is not measurable in calories. How many times this year have
you "turned" your stock of kindness?

It is the gradual approach to the Great Surprise that lends full savor
to the experience. It has been thought by some that Christmas would gain
in excitement if no one knew when it was to be; if (keeping the festival
within the winter months) some public functionary (say, Mr. Burleson)
were to announce some unexpected morning, "A week from to-day will be
Christmas!" Then what a scurrying and joyful frenzy--what a festooning
of shops and mad purchasing of presents! But it would not be half the
fun of the slow approach of the familiar date. All through November and
December we watch it drawing nearer; we see the shop windows begin to
glow with red and green and lively colors; we note the altered demeanor
of bellboys and janitors as the Date flows quietly toward us; we pass
through the haggard perplexity of "Only Four Days More" when we suddenly
realize it is too late to make our shopping the display of lucid
affectionate reasoning we had contemplated, and clutch wildly at
grotesque tokens--and then (sweetest of all) comes the quiet calmness of
Christmas Eve. Then, while we decorate the tree or carry parcels of
tissue paper and red ribbon to a carefully prepared list of aunts and
godmothers, or reckon up a little pile of bright quarters on the
dining-room table in preparation for to-morrow's largesse--then it is
that the brief, poignant and precious sweetness of the experience claims
us at the full. Then we can see that all our careful wisdom and
shrewdness were folly and stupidity; and we can understand the meaning
of that Great Surprise--that where we planned wealth we found ourselves
poor; that where we thought to be impoverished we were enriched. The
world is built upon a lovely plan if we take time to study the
blue-prints of the heart.