Topic : 12/11 Dr. Phil and Robin’s Christmas Show!

i think that they are doingthis for a good cause.. dont you

Jealous, yes a little.  I'm upset because they give so much to the audience.  Had I been able to travel, let alone have the money to attend the show, I would have been there.  I'm disabled, I'm overweight (desperately trying to shed the pounds), I have arthritis in almost every joint of my body and I live in pain every day of my life.  Because I am living on disability income the doctors don't really care to help to much.  Hopefully I will be attending college again to try and get myself out of this hell!  I have written to both Dr. Phil and Robin asking for help with my weight, more than once and I have heard nothing back.  They give so much to people that will probably turn around and sell most of it and yet there are so many like me. 

I'm not a child and I'm not old, I was in a car wreck.  I get tired of watching him giving so much away and I sit here, not able to do anything.  I'm really angry.  I don't care who says they hate me or I should be grateful or whatever.  I am entitled to my feelings and expressing them in a manner that is healthy for me.  I'm not here to please the next person, I'm here for me.  I finally became the most important person in my life!!

I love Christmas, I don't have anyone close anymore to spend the day with so I do spend it alone and because I don't have the money to, I don't have Xmas decorations nor do I want any. 

Spreading the love has gone to far.  It should either be just about the children or none at all!!

I found this on an other board and thought it was very interesting.

This is what Christmas giving is all about in my opinion.

 I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the way my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.

That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it I'll wait for you  in the car."

Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but  never had I shopped for anything all by myself.

The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of  Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's third grade class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.  I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.  I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and  Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.

Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.

That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care....And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!