The following story was forwarded to me by one of our youth members, Michelle,
whose testimonial can be read on the Youth Speaks Out page. Michelle found
it on the internet and shared that it was too good not to pass along.
I agree. We are including it as an adult testimonial because it is by
an adult reflecting on a special Christmas event in her childhood. It
is well worth sharing with everyone at this time of year.
The Christmas Coat
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. 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.
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 cinnamon bun. "Where" turned
out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store that had a little bit of
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 and,
though I'd gone shopping with my mother, I never shopped for anything
by myself.
The store seemed big and 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, and the people who went to my church. I was just about
thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby D. He was a kid with bad
breath and messy hair, who sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's second
grade class.
Bobby D. 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 D. didn't
have a cough. He didn't have a coat! I fingered the ten-dollar bill with
growing excitement. I would buy Bobby D. a coat! I settled on a red corduroy
one that had a hood. 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 in Christmas paper and ribbons
and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of
the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). Grandma said that Santa
always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby D'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 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 beside my
Grandma, in Bobby D'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 and always believe in the magic of Santa
Claus!
Thanks, Michelle, for passing on a very special holiday story.
|