The Joy of Christmas

by Amy Newmark

  As we walked through the rows of trees, my youngest daughter Kimberly piped excitedly, “There it is, the perfect tree!” My two other daughters agreed in unison, “Yes, that’s the one!” My husband and I looked at each other puzzled. We were surprised the girls thought that straggly little tree was perfect. Its branches were misshapen and the trunk was visible through the spots where there were no pine needles.

  We tried to coax our daughters into changing their minds by showing them what we thought were better trees. We soon realized there was no changing their minds. With the clock ticking toward closing time, we had no choice; the sad little tree would be ours.

  We tied the tree to the roof of our van and headed home. As we slowly drove through the whirling snow, we joyfully sang Christmas songs until we reached our front door. My oldest daughter, Heather, hopped out of the van first. With eyes wider than saucers, she announced, “The tree isn’t on top of the van!” We thought she was kidding, but no, the tree wasn’t there. It must have fallen off along Route 537 during our chorus of Christmas songs.

  The girls were so disappointed. We had our entire evening planned around decorating the tree. Hot cocoa, more Christmas caroling, and reading the book The Night Before Christmas were on our agenda. “We’ll get another tree tomorrow,” I said, secretly hoping the new tree would be prettier. But the girls gave us the look that no parent can resist, complete with pouting and quivering lower lips. There was only one thing to do — backtrack and find that tree.

  About five minutes into our drive, our headlights shone on our tree off to the side of the road. “There it is!” we all shouted together. As we got closer, it was apparent that it had been run over by something big, perhaps a truck. As my husband and I lifted the tree, we saw that a big portion of the tree was ripped off, but we took our little broken tree home anyway.

  Once at home, we all agreed that the flat broken side would go up against the wall. That night, as we decorated our tree, something magical happened. We didn’t realize it at the time but we were making a very special family memory. By the time we were done, I had to admit, it didn’t look sad after all. My daughters all agreed that the tree was beautiful. “This is the best tree we ever had. It’s perfect!” my daughter Samantha said with excitement. My husband and I couldn’t have agreed more!

  Now as Christmases come and go and we gather around our Christmas tree, we always say, “This is one of the prettiest trees we’ve ever had!” Then we reminisce about our little broken tree! One by one, we chime in and tell the story of that very special Christmas almost twenty-five years ago.

  ~Dorann Weber

  Lights, Camera, Action

  The child supplies the power but the parents have to do the steering.

  ~Dr. Benjamin Spock

  Decorating for Christmas has always been a highlight of the year for me. When I was young and still living in my parents’ house, I pleaded to get the decorations out as soon as Thanksgiving dinner was over.

  Every time a “Christmas” box was pulled down from the attic, my eyes lit up. There’s just something about Christmas — especially the lights — that brightened my spirits on the gloomy days of winter when it gets dark so early.

  My sweet, eleven-year-old son, Colton, knew how much I liked decorating for Christmas. One year, we got all the Christmas boxes out with the intention of putting up the lights and decorations a little at a time each night after I came home from work. But Colton wanted to surprise me, so he did it himself.

  He couldn’t wait to show me how he carefully wound the white lights around each baluster and each railing on the deck of our second floor apartment. He was so proud of himself! I gave him a big hug and told him how much help he was to me.

  After dinner, we decided to go out on the deck and enjoy his special holiday decoration surprise. He wanted me to sit on the chair while he plugged in the deck lights. When he did, they were so bright I thought I was on a television stage. He had not strung one set of lights… but four. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I thought there might be too many lights. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  I continued to give him kudos about what a good job he had done. We sat outside basking in the overwhelming glow of all those white lights. When we decided to head inside for the night, he begged me to leave the lights on.

  This routine went on for a couple more nights until one night there was a knock on the door. I looked through the peephole and there stood the apartment maintenance man. He politely told me that the people on the deck next to ours were complaining about all the light. This was not because they were Scrooges, according to the maintenance man, but rather because our lights were so incredibly bright that they were keeping the poor couple awake at night even with their blinds closed!

  After he left, I drove around to the loading dock of the Home Depot behind our apartment complex to check out our lights from that distance. There happened to be workers unloading a truck at the time. I pulled up, got out of the car and looked back toward our apartment. I mentioned to the workers that the enormous glow in the distance was from my apartment and they told me they had wondered what was going on over there. There were other Christmas lights in our complex but none as bright as ours. They joked that there was maybe a Hollywood movie crew shooting a sequel to Christmas Vacation.

  I spent the short drive back deciding how to explain to my son that we would have to remove some of the lights. Not wanting him to feel bad, I gently explained that we did not want to “outshine” our neighbors. That evening, we took photos of what a magnificent job he had done decorating the deck for Christmas, after which I helped him remove several strands of lights.

  Last year Colton sent me a photo of how he had decorated the sidewalk up to the apartment he now shares with his wife. He had penguin and candy cane lights along the walkway, five inflatables on the small grassy area, a wreath on the door and miniature white lights framing his doorway. I guess he never really forgot how good it feels to decorate for the holidays. And even though it’s been twenty-three years since my genuinely sweet son went delightfully overboard in creating his Christmas surprise for me, I’ll never forget the year that he put us on center stage in the “Hollywood Lights.”

  ~AimeeAnn Blythe

  The Last Christmas

  It is the personal thoughtfulness, the warm human awareness, the reaching out of the self to one’s fellow man that makes giving worthy of the Christmas spirit.

  ~Isabel Currier

  It was an unusually warm and sunny day for early winter in Minnesota, with a fresh coating of snow gently blanketing the ground. The air smelled of a crisp pine scent coming from the fragrant evergreen trees nearby. Crowds of people were gathering on the lawn of a house, the driveway and the nearby road. They quickly decorated the outside of the house and the nearby trees with ornaments, ribbons, and wreaths.

  A local news station had picked up the story and was filming the activity. Friends and neighbors set up tables offering homemade Christmas cookies and hot apple cider. A talented local art teacher was selling special Christmas pins painted by her art students to raise money for the family inside the house. And then Santa arrived bearing a glorious red sack full of toys and gifts. He rang the doorbell.

  All this commotion and good cheer was the result of a top-secret mission to bring Christmas early to the family inside that house: my good friends Michael, Nicole, and their four young children. Michael was nearing the end of his battle against an aggressive form of oral squamous cell cancer. Radiation and chemotherapy treatments had bought him some precious time, but the cancer was in his lungs and lymph nodes now.

  It had been surprisingly easy to coordinate this event by using technology. We were able to spread the word to family, friends, neighbors, community and church. People e-mailed and called by the dozens and asked what they could bring and how they could help. In just one week’s time, the word had gotten out that there would be a spectacular Christmas celebration on Michael’s front lawn in the middle o
f November!

  Now, Santa was ringing the doorbell and we were waiting for our guest of honor. Michael slowly opened the door and the crowd began to sing Christmas carols. He choked back tears at the same time that he was smiling. In that brief moment, it seemed like the cancer had disappeared.

  The news crew captured the entire event as it unfolded. Michael stepped out onto the porch where he was greeted by Santa Claus and a multitude of people that he had touched in one way or another. As he slowly waded through the crowd, he happily shook hands and gave out enormous hugs. He exclaimed, “Man, this is awesome… this is crazy.” The caroling began again as people reached for each other’s hands.

  A couple who owned a nearby reindeer farm had also heard of the family’s hardships. They pulled up to the house with two of their most beloved and exquisite reindeer! The stunning pair wore jingle bells on their halters as they stood majestically in the driveway. Michael’s children squealed in delight as he watched their small faces light up like Christmas light bulbs. As he reached out his hand and gently stroked the reindeer, he realized that he had been given an extraordinary gift in this tribute. He had wanted his family’s last Christmas with him to be a special one, and the community had come together to make it special not only for him, but for his wife and children. This was something they would remember forever, a lasting legacy from a beloved husband and father.

  More than two hundred people converged on the family’s lawn that day toting an abundance of Christmas spirit for one exceptional human being and his family.

  Michael passed away peacefully in his bed with his devoted wife by his side a few weeks later; his wish for a final, meaningful Christmas became a reality.

  ~Rita Kaye Vetsch

  The Mean Old Man Next Door

  Christmas is most truly Christmas when we celebrate it by giving the light of love to those who need it most.

  ~Ruth Carter Stapleton

  When my wife, Ann, inherited her grandmother’s house we were excited to be moving into our very first home. It needed some repairs but it was spacious and comfortable. Our two girls were thrilled they would no longer have to share a room.

  The couple across the street had a rambunctious freckle-faced boy the same age as Karen, our seven-year-old, and he offered to show her around when school started. Judging by how often Tommy teased Karen, I — remembering my own childhood crushes — decided that he had developed an instant crush on her. They played together every day and she soon stopped longing for the friends she left behind in our old neighborhood.

  On our left side was a single mother with twin girls who were five years old. She immediately offered to trade off babysitting duty with Ann. In a few weeks she and Ann were well on their way to becoming good friends. Everyone we met seemed to be amicable and approachable. Except for the older gentleman next door on our right.

  Ann and I were doing some yard work in the front of the house the first time we saw him. He came out of his house, leaning heavily on a cane, and slowly made his way to his mailbox. “Hi!” Ann called out cheerily and I raised my hand in greeting. He continued on his way to the mailbox without any sort of acknowledgment at all. Ann gave me a quizzical look and I shrugged my shoulders. Our houses were close together and I didn’t see how he could not have seen us or heard Ann’s greeting.

  “Maybe he’s having a bad day,” I said lamely.

  Ann’s usually smiling mouth slid down into a frown. “Or maybe he’s just a mean old man who doesn’t like kids moving in next door.”

  A few days later Karen and Tommy were playing roller ball in our front yard. Just as Tommy hurled the ball toward the bat near the edge of the yard, Ann called them inside for ice cream. They didn’t see the ball roll past the bat and end up a few feet into the old man’s yard. When they went back outside they saw the old fellow slowly nudging the ball back into our yard with his cane.

  “Thanks for returning our ball,” Karen said politely, running to snatch it up, as the old man seemed to be having difficulty pushing it back into our yard.

  Without looking up, the old man replied. “Make sure it stays over there. I can’t have a bunch of toys cluttering up my yard.”

  When the kids related the incident to Ann she was outraged. “Why make such a fuss over one little ball?. My first impression was right. He’s just a mean old man.”

  After that we always referred to him as “the mean old man next door.” We warned the kids to stay clear of his yard and we made no more friendly overtures toward him. When the kids went trick-or-treating on Halloween we skipped his house, taking note of the one dim light that shone from the rear of the house. No lights on was the universal hint to kids that no candy would be offered at this house.

  From time to time we would see the old man as he made his way to his mailbox or sat on his back porch in nice weather. We never saw visitors and figured that was due to his sour disposition. Ann noticed that when he was outside he often appeared to be watching the kids at play. “Probably making sure that no toys or kids end up in his yard,” Ann said, frowning.

  Shortly before Christmas I got laid off from my job. How do you tell small children that Christmas will be scant? But what good are new toys under the Christmas tree if the colored lights won’t glow because the electric bill wasn’t paid? “We’ll just have to do the best we can and hope they don’t notice,” I said.

  Ann scowled. “They’ll notice that the other kids got far more than they did and they’ll think that they must have been naughty.”

  My heart sank. I couldn’t bear the thought of my sweet girls thinking that they had been bad.

  I was in the yard raking up the very last of the fall leaves, mainly to keep busy so I wouldn’t dwell on how fast Christmas was approaching. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the old man standing in his yard. I tried to ignore him but when he continued to stand in the same spot I lifted my head and made eye contact with him. To my surprise he motioned for me to come over. Feeling more curious than friendly, I put down my rake and approached him.

  “I have something to show you,” he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

  I followed him inside as he led me to a large closet at the end of the hallway. He smiled at me and opened the door. “I think it’s about time I let this stuff go. I want you to have it for your little girls.”

  I stared in disbelief. The shelves were laden with beautiful dolls of all sorts, games, puzzles, and a huge array of toys in mint condition. I looked over at the old man and his eyes were misty. “They all belonged to my little girl before I lost her and her mother in an automobile accident when she was only six years old. I heard about you losing your job and it seemed wrong for me to hold onto these things when you have two little girls who could be enjoying them.”

  He sighed. “I love to watch your girls play. I hope I didn’t upset them when I asked them to keep their toys out of my yard. I can’t see or hear very well anymore or pick up my feet like I once could. It’s easy for me to trip and once I’m down I can’t get up without help.”

  “How can I possibly thank you?” I said in a thick voice. My girls would have a nice Christmas after all, thanks to the mean old man next door.

  “Let me help wrap them,” he said, looking at me hopefully.

  “I’d like that.”

  The mean old man next door is now our favorite neighbor. Because of his generosity, our girls had a wonderful Christmas and we have a frequent guest for Friday night dinner.

  ~Joe Atwater

  The Most Wonderful Shopping Trip

  Be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud.

  ~Maya Angelou

  My husband was finishing up college and we were using every available means to earn an income and to spend frugally. There was no money left over to buy Christmas gifts for our two young daughters.

  Most of our friends were in the same situation. We would all have to make the best of it.

  The college wives had a group that met every month for activities and friends
hip. At the November meeting, the leader made an announcement: “Our church ladies are sponsoring a gently used toy giveaway. Each college wife will be able to come to our event and ‘shop’ for Christmas toys.”

  Of course, we buzzed with excitement. We couldn’t wait for our “shopping” trip. It was the answer to our prayers.

  We arrived at the appointed house on the appointed night. I don’t know what we expected, but we entered a toy wonderland. Every inch of the living and dining rooms, den, garage, and even part of the kitchen were covered in toys so gently used they could pass for new.

  For the first round, everyone could choose a toy for each child. What a great time we had choosing the perfect gifts. Some of the women chose a toy per child and left, not realizing there would be enough left over for another round. I stayed because one of our church ladies pulled me aside and said, “I have something special for you if you can stay until last.” Of course I could stay.

  We all did a second round of shopping and there were still toys left over. More of the women left. We all had selected two toys per child, so it seemed like enough.

  The ladies from the church invited us to do a third round of shopping. Meanwhile, I lingered, waiting for the “special something” that I had been offered.

  Finally, only a few wives remained. The lady returned and asked me to follow her into another room. I didn’t know what to expect. She presented me with a beautiful, white doll cradle in pristine condition.

  “The person who donated this wanted it to go to a special home. I believe it’s perfect for your little girls.”

  I was overwhelmed. This was an expensive toy, far nicer than the already great toys I had been allowed to choose that night. But that wasn’t all. Another lady gave me a set of vintage doll bunk beds, complete with mattresses, pillows, sheets, and handmade quilts.