“It's funny, but I don't remember receiving that kind of help any other year.”
I was quite young at the time. I think I was somewhere around four. Obviously, after thirty-four years, some of the details are a little shaky, but it's amazing how vivid many of the images from that Christmas remain. I remember that we were living in the basement apartment of a house in Toronto. I remember exotic and yet homey smells coming from the woman cooking for her family upstairs. I remember that it was the last year my mom bothered to battle with a real Christmas tree.
I can still see her struggling, fumbling, falling and scratching herself as she and two small boys put up, and took down that tree. I remember not really liking that apartment because it was dark and dreary. Nowhere in my retrievable memory is there an image of a back yard to play in, or a park nearby. Nor is there an image of any childhood friends. I was way too young to know what was going on, but I do remember sensing that living in that basement was a time of stress, a time of transition, a stopping point on a journey to something better. I also remember that we were alone and poor.
I do remember having a black and white TV and looking at the Ed Sullivan show with one eye, and the twinkle of the tree with the other, and I recall us all sitting together as a family, my mom, my brother, Bob, and I. But, my most vivid memory for that Christmas was the knock at the door and the man who brought in a couple of boxes of food and clothing. I have no idea if he was from the Salvation Army, or a local food bank, or some other social agency, but I DO remember how happy and thankful we were. I remember the red knitted mitts and scarf that I got. I believe I went to sleep that night with them on! I also remember the turkey that mom was now able to cook for Christmas dinner. We ate like two kings and a queen that Christmas.
It's funny, but I don't remember receiving that kind of help any other year. From then on, we may not have had much money, but we had enough to put food on the table. Mom always went out of her way to make sure we had more than we really deserved, or needed for Christmas. But there was something about that stranger at the door with a gift of food, clothing and kindness that I never forgot. Somehow, even at a very young age, such a gift found an eternal place of honour in my heart.
There is a big difference in our attitudes when we receive gifts during a time of abundance and a time of need. A couple of years after that Christmas, a red scarf and mitts would have quickly hit the floor with the rest of the detestable items of clothes that got in the way of opening my toys. I wouldn't have liked them. I wouldn't have missed them if they got kicked under the couch for a year or two. I just wouldn't have appreciated the gift, or cared about the giver. But that Christmas, those mitts were treasured and they warmed my heart more than they warmed my hands.
I often think about such things when we get involved in the Operation Christmas Child program that Franklin Graham's Samaritan's Purse sponsors. Each year they collect shoe boxes filled with toys, candies, clothing etc. and send them all over the world for needy children to receive at Christmastime. They also enclose a Christian tract so that the gospel is shared with the gifts. As I watched the promotional video this year and child after child was thrilled with items that our children might not even consider half-decent stocking stuffers, I got a bit sad.
Somewhere, somehow, in the land of plenty we've forgotten how to be thankful, how to appreciate even the smallest gifts. We've lost some of our simple innocence. But that doesn't mean we can't get it back, does it? I certainly hope not!
Finally, we owe it to ourselves, we owe it to our Heavenly Father, to do something for Jesus this Christmas. Give Him a present by sharing with someone who is in need. You don't have to make a big production out of it, but you do have to give it in love. You really don't know how thankful and appreciative people are when they are given the gift of kindness in a time of need. I don't recall all the gifts I've received over the years, but I do remember those mitts and that wonderful turkey with all the trimmings. Thank you, nameless, faceless stranger! You touched the heart of a four-year-old with the love of Jesus.