MY TRUE
CHRISTMAS STORY

I wrote the following poem for our local newspaper back in 1988.  It was a contest to tell about your best Christmas memories.   I was third-runner up in that contest!

It was blustery cold and snowing. My children, Karl, Krishna, and Keith were watching TV, and I was off in outer space thinking it would take a miracle for my children to have any sort of Christmas.

I had no tree or gifts and not much food for my three children ages 8, 6, and 5 years old. I had recently come home from the hospital after major surgery. I had no money, my husband left me for my babysitter, sent my trailer back for repossession, and put my children in foster care. When I got out of the hospital I had no place to live, no home, no husband, and no children.

A month before Christmas, I rented a half-duplex trailer with one bedroom. My landlady, Jean, rented it to me because I had no place to go and she had a very big heart. She didn't want to rent to someone with children but for some reason she made an exception for me. Her husband, Joe, was tall, with large hands, in his mid-60's , and he fell in love with my children.

One starlit, freezing night, Joe knocked on my door and asked my children if they would like to hunt for a tree in the woods behind his house. They forgot all about the TV and gleefully said that they would love that!

The children told me how Joe let them pick out the tree they wanted and he cut it down, nailed a wooden cross on the bottom, and carried it into the house. There it was, our six-foot balsam tree, thick and full with the aroma of fresh pine. Jean, his wife, brought over a string of white, clear lights, and a few Christmas ornaments, and the children were all aglow. We decorated the tree and Jean and Joe had a cup of coffee with me and talked about the holidays, Finally, they left and the children sat and watched the glittering tree sparkle in the dark.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door. An elderly lady about five foot tall, wearing a dark brown hat, scarf, and boots with a light tan coat and gloves was standing on my doorstep. She was tiny and shaky and well into her 70's.

I said, "Hello, may I help you?" and she said, "Merry Christmas! I have learned through the grapevine that you and your family could use some help at this time of year, so I've brought you each a little something."

I looked down and there were three large boxes, which I helped her carry inside. The boxes contained gifts for my children, all the food needed for a Christmas dinner, candy and a card with $10 inside for me to buy myself a present.

I was stunned and for a moment, speechless. Tears swelled my eyes and watered my cheeks. I composed myself, after a moment, thanked her, offered her a cup of tea, which she politely declined, then she left.

I never saw her again, but through the years, I spoke with her on the phone once or twice and thanked her again and again. When she passed away, I knew I had lost my closest and dearest friend. She will always be in my thoughts and my heart, for she taught me so much about giving.

My life improved over the years, I entered college, earned an Associates Degree in the field of Secretarial Science and have worked ever since.

Now, I'm driving up a bumpy, crooked driveway toward a tarpaper shack, windows bare and smoke stained from the straining woodstove. I knock on the door and there stands a six-foot tall, bearded man wearing tattered blue jeans. He has hands grease-stained from his mechanic's job. His wife has long brown hair and eyes of the same color. His son, about 4, has big blue eyes, and his daughter almost 3, wears her frumpy blond hair pulled back with a rubber band.

"Merry Christmas!" I say, and they stare at me in awe, then invite me in and offer me some coffee. They have tears in their eyes and say they can't believe I'm there. They say thank you at least 50 times.

"If ever there is something we could do for you, please don't hesitate to come and ask, for we appreciate all you've done", said the father and mother of that family.

The smile on their faces, the tears of joy in their eyes, and their many thanks are my best memories of Christmas. As I pull out of their driveway, the whole family crowds in the smoky window waving goodbye, with the biggest smiles I've ever seen.

Comments or Questions?....then....E-mail me!

©Story written by SassyLD1
©1999 by SassyLD1 - Last Updated on  12/01