At the
discussion board site I hang out at in my free time,
someone
posted the following story and I was very touched
by it
-- it demonstrated to me the very heart of this
holiday
season. I cried when I read it and you may too,
but
wipe the tears away and keep reading -- it's worth it!
A Christmas Story"
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through
the
branches
of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas---
oh,
not the true
meaning of Christmas,
but
the commercial aspects of it-
overspending...the
frantic running around at the last minute
to get
a tie for Uncle Harry and the
dusting powder for Grandma---
the
gifts given in desperation because you
couldn't
think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts,
sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike.
The
inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the
junior
level at the
school he attended;
and
shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match
against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.
These
youngsters, dressed in
sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only
thing
holding them
together, presented a sharp contrast to our
boys
in their spiffy blue and gold
uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the
match began, I was alarmed
to see that the other team
was
wrestling
without
headgear,
a kind
of light
helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears.
It was
a luxury the ragtag team
obviously
could not afford.
Well,
we ended up walloping them.
We took
every weight class.
And
as each of their boys got up from the mat,
he swaggered
around in his tatters with false bravado
, a
kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike,
seated beside me, shook his head sadly,
"I wish
just one of them could have won,"
he said.
"They have a lot of potential,
but
losing like this could
take
the heart right out of them."
Mike
loved kids
-all
kids-
and
he knew them,
having
coached little league football,
baseball
and lacrosse.
That's
when the idea for his present came.
That
afternoon,
I went
to a local sporting goods store
and
bought an assortment of wrestling
headgear
and shoes and sent them
anonymously
to the inner-city church.
On Christmas
Eve,
I placed
the envelope on the tree,
the
note inside telling Mike what
I had
done and that this was his gift from me.
His
smile was the brightest thing about Christmas
that
year and in succeeding years.
For
each Christmas,
I followed
the tradition---one year sending a
group
of mentally handicapped
youngsters
to a hockey game,
another
year a check to a pair of elderly brothers
whose
home had burned to the ground the
week
before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope
became the highlight of our Christmas.
It was
always the last thing opened on Christmas morning
and
our children, ignoring their new toys,
would
stand with wide-eyed anticipation
as their
dad lifted the envelope from
the
tree to reveal its contents.
As the
children grew,
the
toys gave way to more practical presents,
but
the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there.
You see,
we lost
Mike last year due to dreaded cancer.
When
Christmas rolled
around,
I was still so wrapped in grief
that
I barely got the tree up.
But,
Christmas Eve found me
placing
an envelope on the tree,
and
in the morning,
it was
joined by three more.
Each
of our children,
unbeknownst
to the others,
had
placed an envelope on the
tree
for their dad.
The
tradition has grown and someday
will
expand even further
with
our grandchildren
standing
around the tree with
wide-eyed
anticipation watching
as their
fathers take down the envelope.
Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.
May we
all remember Christ,
who
is the reason for the season,
and
the true
Christmas
spirit this year and always.
God
bless---pass this along to your friends and loved ones.
