The Joy of Christmas Read online

The day the three of us moved into that rather dilapidated house, I realized the stove was not working, and while I was wondering what to do, there was a knock on the front door. A truck was parked on the road and its driver now stood in front of me. He was at the wrong address, but he was in the refurbished appliance business. I recall with clarity what I said to him: “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I had a stove the next day.

  My old car needed some work. My new neighbor turned out to be a mechanic who helped me very much, yet asked for very little.

  With uncanny regularity, spaces in the crammed parking lots of the hospital, the lawyer’s office and the stores became available exactly when and where I needed them.

  And so it went, day after day, occurrences that singularly could be dispelled as coincidence, but collectively made me awestruck with wonder.

  Christmas was coming, and my sons and I had decorated a tree, but there was no money for gifts. And even though I had recently turned forty and was indisputably an adult, I longed for the guidance of my mother, my father and my aunt.

  As I was thinking about them, I prepared lunch for my boys, who would be home at any moment. Suddenly, a simple envelope with a law firm’s name inscribed on the upper left corner flew through the mail slot and floated like a paper airplane over the scratched wooden floorboards of the tiny foyer. I didn’t open it right away; I wasn’t ready for negative news. I had had enough.

  Later that day, the letter was still sitting on the counter. I stared it down for a moment as if I were accepting a challenge. I held it up to the light of the kitchen window to try to see inside it without actually opening it. Finally, I got up my nerve and sliced open the envelope with a knife from the kitchen drawer. A thick piece of paper came out — a letter. And a check!

  The letter said it was a distribution from my aunt’s estate, and that there would be more after this. I sat down on a kitchen chair and I cried. I cried for all the losses and I cried for all the undeniable wins.

  I was quite aware that this check had come just in time to save our Christmas. The letter was dated December 17th. I can see that date whenever I want because it is hanging on my wall. I had the letter framed to honor my aunt and always remind me to never take for granted the help I received.

  After I got that check, I was off to the mall, where the carols blaring from loudspeakers and the noise of shoppers in long lines were all music to my ears. Everything felt magical.

  My older son wanted nothing but a puppy. That was it. No other toys or gifts; I had worried over how I would explain that we could not afford a dog, but now that problem was behind us. My son’s one wish could come true.

  He named her Merry, for Merry Christmas, and that Jack Russell Terrier was his companion for the next fifteen years.

  Ever since that magical time, when everything and everyone seemed to conspire to help us through a difficult time, I have believed in guardian angels. I have felt them all around me.

  ~Nancy Thorne

  The Reminder

  Dreams are illustrations. . . from the book your soul is writing about you.

  ~Marsha Norman

  It was just before sunrise. I shuffled into the family room, which was aglow from the lights on the Christmas tree. The faint smell of pine drifted about. All was silent save for the old clock on the mantel ticking away.

  At first I didn’t notice him sitting on the couch.

  When I did, I wasn’t startled or surprised, even though it had been almost six years since I had seen him. For some reason I didn’t find it strange, even though part of me said I should have.

  He wore the old tattered yellow robe I remembered him wearing from my childhood. He didn’t look like he did at the end of his life — taut, hallow and frail, just before God stopped his heart and called him home. No, he looked like he did when he was full of life. During that time when I was a boy and he mowed an acre of lawn on a hot summer day fueled only by a glass of sweet tea.

  Now he was staring at the lights on the tree and gently petting the dog whose head rested on his lap. It was as if they’d been friends forever.

  I sat on the floor in front of the couch near him, just as I did when I was little. I caught a hint of the Old Spice aftershave he always used.

  “Hello, Dad,” I said quietly.

  He smiled, glanced at me, and then looked back at the tree. There was a soft glow on his face from the lights.

  “You know something, son,” he said. “This was always my favorite day of the year.”

  His voice was so familiar. That was the voice that used to chide me for not finishing my homework, or boom when he told me how proud he was of me. That voice would tell a story that brought laughter from everyone, or gently tell me that everything would be okay.

  “I used to love Christmas Day,” he said. “I loved the fact that for at least one day we were all together, all happy. That we were all a family.”

  He looked over at me. His gentle smile made me feel a warmth I had not felt in years.

  “It didn’t matter what happened the other 364 days of the year,” he said. “For that one day…”

  He chuckled, “You know your mom and I had our little disagreements through the years.”

  He looked back at the tree still smiling.

  “We used to fight like cats and dogs,” he sighed. “But that woman loved me unconditionally. And Lord knows I loved her. No matter what crazy scheme I had — buying that failing trucking company, moving halfway across the country — she stood by me. Didn’t matter what it was; she kept me in clean underwear, kept our house clean, and kept you kids fed and healthy.”

  He was silent for a moment, stroking the dog’s head.

  “And you kids,” he laughed quietly again. “Man, you kids used to argue, yell at each other.”

  “But you know something?” he said. “On Christmas Day, we were always together, happy. We were a family. Opening presents, smiling laughing. Eating way too much. Never arguing, just loving each other.”

  “God how I treasured that,” his voice trailed off. He sighed before continuing. “It’s a shame we could never carry that feeling over the rest of the year. It didn’t seem long before we were back to the routine.”

  “Just a shame,” he whispered.

  He looked back at me. I remembered the same look from the times when he told me, “If you’re going to do something, do it right, or don’t do it at all.”

  “I hope you can understand it,” he said. “Understand how lucky you are. You have people who love you unconditionally, a wife who keeps you in clean underwear, keeps your house clean and your kids fed.

  “And those kids,” he paused and smiled. “They are happy, healthy and thriving.

  “Try to keep this feeling,” he said. “The feeling on Christmas Day when you have your family all here, happy, healthy, smiling, laughing, loving one another. Try to keep that feeling every single day of the year.

  “Never, ever lose that. That feeling of being grateful for what you have.” He sighed again.

  “There are richer men, bigger houses, people who have more ‘things,’ ” he paused for a moment. “But there are many who will never know the love of a family.

  “I was richer than any billionaire. Blessed beyond belief. Had more than I ever needed. I had you kids and your mom… and at the end of the day that’s all I ever needed.

  “And son, that’s all you’ll ever need, too.”

  He looked back at the tree.

  “I had such a good life.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. His voice was near a whisper. “A very good life. And every Christmas Day I was reminded of just how good a life I had.”

  I looked over at the tree, trying to soak in the words he had spoken. The lights blurred and merged as tears filled my eyes. As always, he was right.

  But I wanted to hear more. Hear the voice that brought me so much comfort as a child. The voice that taught me so much. The voice that shaped the man — the father — that I have become.

 
; As I turned, however, he was gone. My cheeks were damp. I wiped my face and then reached out and touched the spot where he had been sitting, hoping, praying he would return. The dog softly whimpered, but the spot remained empty. I imagined I could still detect the scent of Old Spice in the air, melting away and replaced with the scent of pine. The old clock on the mantel continued ticking.

  I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to remain in the dream just a little longer.

  Soon, I sat by the Christmas tree for real, looked at the glowing lights and smiled. Because I am grateful: for family, friends, and life.

  I have a very good life, and every Christmas Day I am reminded just how good it is.

  It’s something we all need to remember. A feeling we should carry with us every single day of every single year. Whether we have a vivid dream to remind us or not.

  ~Greg Engle

  A Divine Mistake

  Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

  ~William James

  We were flying home after spending the Thanksgiving holiday with our children in California. We spotted a red scooter in the in-flight catalog, and even though it was for children and teens, we thought it might be fun to use on the bike path behind our house. When we got home, I ordered two scooters from the catalog.

  The next day, I was surprised to see the identical scooter at our local discount store. It was ten dollars less than in the catalog, so I bought the scooters at the store, saving twenty dollars plus shipping. And now we had our scooters right away.

  I called the catalog company and canceled the order. It was no problem.

  We rode those scooters all December.

  On Christmas Eve, which was a Saturday, I was making French toast when the doorbell rang. My husband answered the door and a deliveryman handed him a very large package that he signed for. Jokingly he asked me, “Hey, is it close enough to Christmas that we can open a gift?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied with a laugh.

  I handed him the scissors and he carefully cut across the top of the brown wrapper and pulled out two boxes, each containing a red scooter. We were shocked. Looking at the return address label, my husband remarked, “I thought you canceled the catalog order.”

  “I did. I’ll call again to make sure the scooters are deducted off my credit card and arrange to have them picked up.”

  I called and patiently explained to the customer service representative that I had canceled my order on November 29th, but it had been delivered anyway. She put me on hold for several minutes and then came back on the line and assured me that my order had been canceled on November 29th. In addition, she said there were no charges to my credit card and they had no record of shipping two red scooters to my address.

  She told me to keep the scooters.

  Since it was Christmas Eve I suggested to my husband that we call our pastor and ask if he knew of a family that needed presents for their kids. When Pastor Kim answered, my husband explained, “Pastor, we have ended up with two new red scooters for free. We were wondering if you knew of any kids that might need a present.”

  “Well this is certainly the right day for a miracle,” said the pastor. “You see, I don’t go to the church office on Saturdays because I am here all day on Sunday. But early this morning I had a feeling that I should go to my office. As soon as I walked in the door I received a phone call from a young mother of two elementary school children. She was crying and desperate because she had no gifts for them and their electricity and heat will be shut off on Monday. She was hoping someone from our church would help her. I told her I would call some members and see what I could do. I just hung up the phone from talking to her. And now you are calling with the very gifts she needs for her children.”

  I was excited. “Will you please call her right back? Tell her we will bring the red scooters to you.”

  “And the money to pay her utility bill too,” added my husband.

  “This is indeed a morning to remember,” exclaimed Pastor Kim. “I’ll call her back and wait here for you.”

  As I quickly wrapped each scooter in beautiful red and silver foil paper, I marveled at how this sequence of improbable events would help a young mother and her two children on Christmas Eve. My husband and I felt blessed to be part of this small Christmas miracle.

  ~Brenda Cathcart-Kloke

  Our Christmas Angel

  Unselfish and noble actions are the most radiant pages in the biography of souls.

  ~David Thomas

  In December 2000, I landed a contract programming mainframe computers for an investment company in Tacoma, Washington. My wife was seven months pregnant with our fifth child, and my other four children ranged in age from fifteen to seven. Suddenly, I was earning almost $100,000 a year, and we moved into a huge five-bedroom home two days before Christmas.

  We had a great Christmas that year, and after our baby was born I was convinced that we had finally made it. I could provide my children with the lifestyle that they deserved. We ate out almost every night and we splurged on lots of silly things.

  In August of 2001, I signed a three-year extension to this lucrative contract. I felt very secure in this job — definitely blind to reality. We spent money as if it grew on trees, and I hadn’t even thought about saving for the proverbial rainy day.

  Then, on September 11, 2001, when those towers fell in New York City, they brought my world down with them. The investment company that I was working for terminated all its programming contracts. My plans and dreams were gone in the blink of an eye.

  As September gave way to October that year, we found ourselves living in a travel trailer at a state park campground. We had three dogs and five kids, the youngest just starting to walk. My income had gone from upper middle class to the poverty level overnight. I was reduced to surviving on a weekly unemployment check while I looked for work.

  Needless to say I was feeling very bitter and depressed.

  We were still in that trailer, moving from campground to campground throughout the fall. Thanksgiving came and went, and Christmas was approaching. By scrimping wherever we could, my wife and I had managed to set aside about $100 for gifts for the kids. It was sure to be a thin Christmas, but we would still make it as happy as possible for our family.

  My youngest son made a friend that November, as only a seven-year-old can, and the two boys spent many days together. This other young fellow was at the campground visiting his grandmother, who had retired from a lifetime of teaching elementary school and was traveling in her RV. She took the boys on many a nature walk and even helped them make homemade Christmas presents for their families, using pinecones, bark, string, construction paper, and used candles.

  About a week before Christmas, my son was gloomy. His friend’s grandma was going to be moving on, and they would probably never see each other again. His newfound friend stopped by our campsite on the morning that they left, and his grandmother stopped by as well, for a cup of campfire coffee. We thanked her for the time she spent with the boys, and the help she gave them with their gifts.

  As she was leaving, she turned to my wife and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for your family.” She handed my wife an envelope, and then with a smile and a wave, she was gone. My wife opened the envelope. Inside was a card, and as my wife read it, her eyes filled with tears. I asked her what it said, and she just handed it to me, unable to speak.

  It was just a simple Christmas card, but when I opened it up, I was rocked to my core.

  Inside was a handwritten message that said, “I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do. May your family be blessed this Christmas.” Inside were ten crisp twenty-dollar bills.

  To this day, I am moved to tears by that wonderful woman’s spirit of love and compassion. I wish I could have thanked her in person. She’ll never know that in one single moment she not only tripled our
Christmas budget but also showed us the true meaning of Christmas. Her gift was more than just generous; it touched all of our lives in a huge way.

  The following year was a better one, and one of the ways that we attempted to pay it forward was by taking Christmas dinner to a few people who were in that campground for the holiday. Giving away those food bags felt as good as getting any present I ever remember.

  Sometimes the special angels in your life appear from nowhere, and they touch you before moving on. I wish that I had known our Christmas angel better, for the day she gave us her gift, I became her student, and I hope that someday I too can change a family’s life like she did ours that day.

  ~Dusty Grein

  Turnabout Is Fair Play

  Adulthood is when the ghosts of childhood appear.

  ~Terri Guillemets

  When my daughter Jennie was old enough to know that Christmas morning meant colorfully wrapped surprises, she began creeping down the stairs at about 3:00 a.m. Because I’m a mother (or maybe just because we lived in a creaking, ancient farmhouse), I’d hear her footsteps no matter how quietly she descended.

  “Go back to bed,” I’d whisper from our bedroom door at the foot of the steps. “It’s too early to get up.” Eventually we made it a rule that she could not leave her room until 5:00 a.m.

  Just before five, I’d hear her cross the hall to her older brother’s room. “Chris, it’s almost time.” And as the clock struck the hour, her insistent “Chris, we can go down now, wake up!”

  When he was young, Chris would leap up at her call, as eager as she was to open gifts. When he became older, he reluctantly obeyed. As an adolescent, he ignored her badgering as long as possible. He eventually relented — Jennie was difficult to ignore. Her wakeful vigil didn’t wane until she reached her teens.

  As annoying as those pre-dawn dramas were, when they ceased, I missed them. The delight of Christmas morning was diminished when there were no stage whispers or urgency to open gifts. With the onset of the teen years, the children stayed up watching movies at night, so Christmas morning arrived later and later.