I truly enjoyed this story, even though it brought tears to my eyes. I,
too, am frustrated with the commercial aspects of the holiday season. I
think this would be a wonderful tradition to start.
Thanks
Christine
>
>* * * *
>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 peeke=
>d
>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 i=
>n
>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, mostly
>black.
>
>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 eac=
>h
>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-an=
>d
>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 thei=
>r
>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 ay 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 dreade=
>d
>cancer.
>When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barel=
>y
>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 watchin=
>g
>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!>>
>
>
>
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