My family didn't have much growing up. We were considered the lower working middle class. My parents made enough to pay for bills and feed us. My parents did a great job hiding the fact that we had very little. Our Christmas season was usually spent at church, and I never expect gifts. But, when I was in the 6th grade, I came home to our very first Christmas tree.
I was so excited! We hung lights that played Christmas carols, we had this huge bright star at the top, garlands of green and red hung from every branch, and the smell of pine danced around the living room. We even had a few Christmas gifts underneath the tree.
Growing up, I never believed that there was a Santa Claus. I don't ever recall asking my parents why Santa skipped our house every Christmas. But this year, with a tree and gifts, I asked where my present came from. My mother was very open and honest with me. She explained that she had put all our names on a list at the local Salvation Army, and they put our names on a star, which was hung at the local shopping centers. Some one picked my name and bought me a gift.
I am grateful for that some one. Because of the kindness in their heart, I was able to experience a Hallmark Christmas; to feel that joy of opening gifts with my siblings Christmas morning. I remember what my gifts were. Three books (which probably lead to my love of reading) and an overall pant (which was way too long for me, but I wore the overalls until freshman year in high school). My mom signed us up again for another year. She never told us; we just came home to a tree, and gifts. I am grateful for my mother. In every circumstance, she is so resourceful.
Now, it's my turn to spread the joy. To bring the same kind of happiness and warmth into another person's life. I am privilege to be able to do so. When I have babies, I will tell them that there is no Santa Claus. They will know who gives them gifts, and who they can give gifts to.
