Monday, December 12, 2011

some thoughts today

I should be wrapping gifts and cleaning my house, but it's been one of those mornings and I have little time before picking up the boys.  After I pick them up I don't expect a moment to myself until next Monday morning, so I'm taking advantage of this moment.

First I got this email today that made me cry. Granted I'm having one of those days so tears may have been a little much, but none the less I found it very touching.  Here it is for your review:

"I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.  I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb:  "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.  "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.  I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me.  I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns.  I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.  It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm.  Between bites, I told her everything.  She was ready for me.  "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous!  Don't believe it.  That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad,  plain mad!!  Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go?  Go where, Grandma?" I asked.  I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.  "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.  As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days.  "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.   I'll wait for you in the car."  Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old.  I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.  The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew:  my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker.  He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat.  I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter.  His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.  I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.  I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it.  It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.  "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly.  "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.  I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. 
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.  Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.  Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.  Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.  That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were --  ridiculous.  Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside:  $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share, 
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!"

This time of year is hectic, it's stressful trying to fit all of the visits into the allotted time, it's trying to make sure you have all the gifts...  it is however reminders like this one that it's about more.  I am so thankful for my friends who always come through for me, for those who have stepped up when I've felt alone, and for my best friend My Christopher who makes every day of my life special. 

Last little note for the day, I heard about our foster process.  We are indeed licensed and our case is now assigned to an official support worker.  I expect we'll hear from her at some point. There are children that need a safe place for Christmas and I really hope we're able to share our Christmas with someone who needs it this year.  God has blessed us so very much and I'd like to share that blessing; I'd like to be Santa Claus for a little person that needs it.  I'd like to restore to them a belief that I hope they'll be able to carry for a lifetime.  It's all in God's hands, but that's my thoughts on it today.  If His timing sees fit for Christmas then that is what we will do; share His love and His story and then a little of our own Santa Claus and Christmas magic with them. God bless us.  Everyone.

1 comment:

  1. Great story! Made me cry too! So glad that you found out that you are indeed licensed. Won't be long now!