SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS
Posted by: tz8cy5 <tz8cy5@...>
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked 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 in 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 each 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 - and 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 their 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 way 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 dreaded cancer. When Christmas
rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely 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, watching 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.