A Christmas Memory..........Souldrifter

I think that as we get older memories seem to somehow change perspective. What was once a painful, embarrassing memory can turn into something wonderful and perhaps even represent a lesson overlooked until many years later. Such is this story of a Christmas I will never forget.

I was 9 years old the year I found out there was no Santa. In all honesty it took another 3 years that I would give up the possibility of there being a Santa but it was at 9 that the harsh reality hit me. My father had lost his job sometime before Christmas and my mother wasn't working at the time. They tried to prepare us kids the best they could that Santa would not be showing up that year. And with 7 kids to convince it must have been a real hard time for them. I was confused and upset about it all. I refused to believe that Santa would forget us. We had always gotten up Christmas morning with the tree loaded with gifts but this year the look in my parents eyes can only be described as utter heartbreak. As a parent now, I can only imagine the feeling of knowing Christmas morning would come and go with very very little under the tree...if anything.

I remember the phone ringing Christmas eve morning and the look on dads face. There were tears in his eyes and he gave directions to someone he was talking to. I had never seen my dad so humble. I remeber when he got off the phone he took my mothers arm and guided her to the kitchen where we couldn't hear and whispered in her ear. I remember my mother gasping and she looked like she was going to fall to the ground. I could tell it wasn't bad news because they just looked too happy. What ever this news was, it apparently changed the world.

Sometime just after dark fell on that Christmas eve there was a knock on the door and several men were there. One was dressed like Santa. I knew it wasn't Santa because he was just too thin and besides, Santa was too busy to make a personal appearance that night. They started bringing in boxes and boxes of stuff. Some of the boxes went right into my parents room and some of them into the kitchen. These men were very nice to us kids. They picked us up and swung us around. They called themselves Santas helpers. My big manly dad hugged them and cried. I was beginning to understand. What ever hardships my parents were going througe that year, these men seemed to be the answer to their prayers. I felt compelled to hug each one of them myself and thank them. Althouge I didn't know why at the time but just to see the joy and happiness on my parents faces for them being there was enough to make me love them alot.

After they were gone my parents went througe the boxes in the kitchen and I had never seen so many grocerys in my life. There were TWO turkeys and a ham there. How would we EVER eat so much? lol With 7 kids I guess you almost need 2 turkeys. And there were all kinds of homemade cakes, cookies and pies. Someone went to alot of trouble to feed our family. Oh and the chocolate....sooo much candy. I figured this must of been why mom and dad were so happy. We had a feast coming this Christmas. But that wasn't it. You've probably guessed already what IT was that put the smiles on their faces. I mean besides all the food and goodies Santas helpers brought that Christmas eve.

I couldn't help my curiosity that night and I peaked into mom and dads rooms at all the boxes these strangers had brought to our house. To an over imaginitive, exagerative 9 year old...there were hundreds of wrapped gifts with our names on the tags. For a minute I actually believed they WERE Santa's real helpers. Needless to say that Christmas morning was one my parents would never forget as they watched us open these presents not knowing what they were themselves and feeling like a child as well.

I've often thought of that Christmas with a bit of sadness that my parents must have felt just aweful before that phone call that Christmas eve morning. My heart broke for them. I've also felt a bit of embarrasement that we were so poor that we had to rely on the kindness of others for something that shouldn't have mattered, such as getting a ton of presents for Christmas. I see it differently now. By the way, these men were from my fathers VFW post and they knew dad was having a hard time of it and surprised him with all of this. It was a genuine act of kindness. It was a real Christmas miricle and that is the way I see it now. They may have been Santa's helpers that night but in my parents eyes they were Gods angels. 35 years later and I can still feel the joy my parents felt that night and in a way I learned what Christmas was all about. It is about the wonderful miricle that is in the kindness of hearts. That's what it's all about.

Other than getting my first real novel "Rebecca of Sunny Brook Farm" that Christmas, which inspired me to read and read and read the rest of my life...It changed my life in seeing the real meaning of Christmas by the unselfish act of these men taking their time and money to help out a family who really needed it.

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