So This is Christmas

Our Young Women lesson in church today was Christmas themed. We, as leaders, were assigned to prepare our favorite Christmas story or experience. As I thought back on all the Christmases I could remember, I realized I could only think of one specific memory where I was the one receiving. I was probably in 1st grade. We woke up to gifts under the tree. Santa came and left for me a Barbie gazebo. It was already assembled and waiting for me to put years of use to it. And I sure did. I am sure there were 25 other Christmases that were full of happiness and excitement. I am sure I got just the perfect thing each year. But isn't it funny that now, looking back, none of it is important, or even remembered? All of the THINGS I just had to have are of very little to no value to me. I probably don't even have most of those gifts anymore.

No, the memory of things did not come. But I found in my memory the experiences of service.

Probably around the same year I woke to a beautiful Barbie gazebo, was my first perfect memory. Our family did the 12 days of Christmas. We picked a cute little elderly couple who lived down the road. We lived on the state line between Idaho and Wyoming. It was a rural county road, not a lot of houses. I remember helping my mom make Christmas tree ornaments and other fun goodies. I remember driving after dark, all of us, my mom and dad and 3 brothers and me, bundled up and in the little red van driving, then creeping, then turning off the lights of the car, then my dad jumping out with that night's delivery. We watched him sneak up to the front door and knock and run. We tried to stay hidden so as not to give ourselves away, but from the car, straining to see the look on their faces when they came to the door. Of course nobody was there. . .at least not on the front porch. . .maybe in the side of the snowbanks. . .or as far away from their home as they could run in such a short time. Each night we did the same thing. My brother took a turn at delivery man, as I remember he was the one that dove/tripped into the snowbank to hide :) Finally, on Christmas Eve, the 12th day of Christmas, we stopped, we all got out, we all went to the porch, and knocked. As they came to the door and saw us all there, we learned the meaning of Christmas. They invited us in. My dad brought his guitar. We sang Christmas carols for what seemed like forever. It was so much fun.

When is was in high school, we lived in a small town with very few members of the LDS church. I was the only girl member my age. Young Women's was not an option. Though, for a short time I had one leader and on Tuesday nights I would go to her house to do something Young Women related. Eva was involved with working with underprivileged families and knew who needed help in the community. We made fleece blankets for the children of one of these families. Eva boxed them up and did the knock and run thing. A few days later when she was scheduled to do a home visit, the father said to her, "thanks for the blankets." She played the fool and tried to convince him she had no idea what he was talking about. He said, "Eva, your name was on the box." :) oops.

After beauty school when I had a job and was making money, I found the Angel Tree in Walmart. I searched for just the right angel and went shopping just for her or him. I did this a few times and loved every second. I tried to buy everything on their list. Of course the needs but especially the wants. Every child wants something more than they need something. As I shopped I tried to imagine the life of this small child. I tried to picture them as I picked things off the shelf. And little images of their reaction danced in my head as I found just the right thing. At those moments nothing else mattered, just those angels that needed my help.

My favorite memory of all. . .little Hailie. She was our neighbor in Missouri. She moved in a short time after we did. At first I thought she was annoying because she hung around our townhouses like a stray dog. I forced an attitude adjustment on myself and started to be kind. When we didn't have money to spend on school fundraisers, I bought something dumb from her magazine. I learned a little more about her. Her mother was older and in very poor health, in and out of the hospital quite frequently. Her father wasn't in the picture. The mother she knew was her aunt, who had adopted her at a very young age. Her biological mother was a drug addict and court ruled to stay out of her life. Hailie was 10 years old and taking care of her mother, her home, her school work, her survival, nearly all on her own. I cut her hair one time and eventually got to know her better. When I was enduring a trial of my own, and she was the last person I wanted to see, I forgot myself, let her in my home and learned to love her. She was so special. I wanted to do more for her but had limited means to do so. But I decided I would give her Christmas. At least a small one. I bought some fleece to make a rather large blanket. I bought her clothes. . .hers were worn over and over again with few washes in between. As I prepared the fabric for cutting and tieing, I thought to involve her. I went to her home and asked her mom if she could come help me with something. I taught her how to make a fleece blanket. We made it together. Then I asked if she could help me wrap it. When we were finished I sat her down in my living room and handed her the packages. I told her that they were for her. She opened the blanket and was so pleased to know it was for her to keep. She opened the other things I had for her. She glowed. She couldn't stop thanking me and she ran to her mother to show her.

Christmas is the season of giving. After all, that is why Christ came the earth. He gave his life for us. May we give freely, selflessly, and often.