My Christmas Story

It was December 1992, just a few days before Christmas, when there was an unexpected knock at my door. When I opened the door, there was a Fed Ex delivery person with two huge boxes. I was definitely not expecting anything, so this delivery was a surprise.

I moved the boxes into the living room and opened them immediately. I just could not imagine what I would be getting, and in such big boxes. Matt was just a little guy at the time, not quite two and a half, so he was right by my side as I opened the boxes. I opened the first box and found gift after gift after gift, tagged for me and Matt. The second box was more of the same, plus I found the following note:

My co-workers from my last job had “adopted” me and Matt for Christmas that year, continuing a department tradition that had started a few years prior to adopt a “needy” family. Just a few months before, I had made the decision to relocate to the Northwest to move away from an unhealthy situation with Matt’s father. I left my home, my family, my friends, and a great job that I loved to move to the Northwest and an unknown future.

I was 29 years old and it was the first Christmas that I would not be spending with my family. (And I love Christmas with my family!) I had no job and I had no friends. And I had a little guy who deserved to experience the wonders of the season. I was trying to make the best of our situation, but it was hard. I think that was the year that I finally understood firsthand how powerful the lyrics are to I’ll Be Home for Christmas. I think I cried every time I heard it that year because it would only be in my dreams that we would be in the middle of a large family gathering, hearing stories, exchanging presents, laughing, and being loved by my family.

I was crying as I took each carefully wrapped package out of the boxes. The friends and coworkers I left behind made it so clear that we were not forgotten, that we were still cared for and supported from afar. Little Matty was so confused – he was old enough to know that presents were good, but his Momma was crying, which was not good. I could not believe how many presents we had.

In addition to the presents, they also included photos with little dialogue bubbles from everyone in the department.

At a time in my life when I was feeling lonely and sad, it was as if everyone from my old job had reached out to give us a group hug. We were warm in the embrace of their act of kindness. I don’t think I have had a harder holiday season to get through, but this was such a thoughtful “gift” that meant so much more than the actual presents we received that day.

(There were plenty of gifts and it took all day for us to open them on Christmas. Matt would open a present and be quite content to play with it, so he had to be encouraged to open another one. And another. And another. It took hours to get them all opened.)

The gifts I received that day have stayed with me all these years. It was experiencing firsthand the spirit of generosity and the goodness of people. It was knowing the importance of reaching out to people who are alone and might be struggling through the holidays. It was about how a gesture, such as buying a gift for a little boy, might not seem that important, but how it can make all the difference in a day or even in a life. It was about how every act of kindness can have lasting impact, even if we have long forgotten what we did.

I will never forget what my coworkers did for Matt and me that Christmas. In the years since, we have had opportunity to pay it forward by adopting a family or choosing a child from a Christmas giving tree. I do believe it is better to give than receive, but back in 1992, what I needed was exactly what we got, which was to receive the love and kindness bestowed upon us by my former coworkers. That is my amazing Christmas story. (If you would like to read another, from this year, check out this blog post.)