A HEARTWARMING CHRISTMAS STORY
One may never apprehend the real significance
of Christmas in the absence of embracing the timeless truth that our “God is love.” In
light of the loving character of God, we are admonished by His Word to “love
one another…for every one who loves has been born of God and knows God.” (I
John 4:7-8, NIV) In 1982, Nancy W. Gavin
penned a touching story which underscores the meaning and message of Christmas,
love…
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. He did not dishonor the true
meaning of Christmas, but he despised the commercial aspects of it – overspending…the
frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry or dusting
powder for Grandma – the gifts given in desperation because you just 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 a most unusual
way.
Our 12-year-old son, Kevin, was on the wrestling team at school. Shortly before Christmas, there was a
non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, comprised mostly
of black children. These youngsters, who
were 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 their sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other
team was wrestling without headgear, a light helmet designed to protect a
wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the
inner-city team simply could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them that day; we
took every weight class. As each of
their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tattered uniform
with false bravado, a kind of street pride that seemed to have difficulty
acknowledging defeat.
Seated beside me, Mike 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 and he knew them well – having
coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.
That’s when the idea for a unique Christmas present came. That same afternoon, I went to the 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 an envelope on the tree, the note
inside telling Mike what had been done and the fact that this was his gift from
me. His radiant smile was the brightest
thing about Christmas that year, and in succeeding years.
Every Christmas thereafter, we followed this giving
tradition – one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a
hockey game, another year mailing a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose
home had burned to the ground right before Christmas, and so on.
The giving 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, toys gave way to more practical
presents, but the envelope never lost its loving allure. But the story doesn’t end there. You see, last year we lost Mike 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.
Our family’s Christmas tradition has grown and someday will
expand even further with grandchildren standing around the tree in wide-eyed
anticipation, watching as their fathers take down the envelopes. Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will
always be present, and will always be a present, for us.
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