Ok, first off I'll tell ya'll about me being evil! There was a couple things that I've done to my dear loved ones this Christmas Season... bwwwwaaahahahahahaha! First off, I got all the gifts wrapped and placed nicely under the tree. However, I made sure to put all of my hubby's right in the front, so he could be drove insane, then I was sure to cover up as many of the older two's gifts with the lil ones, and hubby's, so that they couldn't even see what shape their packages were. Then told them ALL that if they even touched ANY of the gifts, they couldn't have any! HE HE Then hubby... I did get him his VERY MUCH WANTED case for his Palm, however I told him that I couldn't find any ANYWHERE, and also didn't wrap it, but stuck it in the toe of his stocking, which you can't even tell there's anything in there! again.. he he he! THEN.. this one's the most evil of ALL, I think. My two older kids were begging for a couple of the ChatNow phones, and we, of course, bought them for them, with a couple cases as well. However, when I took my daughter shopping for the gifts from her, I found them WITH the cases as a bonus for free. So I bought those, and told the kids tonite that my hubby would be taking back their ChatNow phones, as we ended up needing the money for bills.... so they WITNESSED their return to the store, phones, and cases! But will actually receive the other ones from Santa, not us! BWWWWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I can't wait to see the look on all their faces come Christmas morning! LOL
Now on to the Christmas story... *WARNING!!! GRAB TISSUES AGAIN!**
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 at this time of the year 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. You know, the 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. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner city church. The kids were 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 head gear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously couldn't 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. He understood kids in competitive situations, 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 challenged 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 - 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. Still, the story doesn't end there.
You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. Yet 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 their envelopes.
Mike's spirit, like the spirit of Christmas, will always be with us.
Chic - You betcha I'm gonna have the camera on 'em!!! bwwwaaaahahahahahah NOW tell Mom that Santa doesn't exsist! HE HE And the story.. I thought that was just an incredible one! :) How awesome that ya'll do the Operation Christmas Child! :)