A
Unique Christmas Tradition
Simple white envelope
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 -- 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. 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 bra vado, 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
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, unbeknown 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 grandc hildren 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. God Bless! -- pass this along to
those friends and loved ones who you know are the givers who understand
the true meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
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