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Comfort and Joy

It was Christmas Eve, I was eleven or twelve. A few hours before our family festivities began, there was a knock on our door. It was a man who worked for my father, and I heard him tell Dad that he didn't have enough money to buy Christmas presents for his kids.

My dad didn't say a word. He walked to his desk, wrote out a check, and went back to the door. "Merry Christmas," he said, as he handed the man his money. Then he closed the door and went back to his chair.

I finished the Christmas cookie I'd been nibbling on. I smelled my mom's homemade apple pie, baking in the oven. I thought about the new dress I'd be wearing to church that night; I looked at the presents underneath our tree. I hope I realized, as I realize now, that it wasn't any of those things that made me one lucky kid.

Comments

aimee said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
aimee said…
That was me.

Anyway, what I was trying to say is that I remember that. Or I didn't remember it until you reminded me. And yes, we are lucky kids indeed. Very lucky.
H Noble said…
What a special memory. And you're right, the best part of it was that your dad didn't think twice about helping someone. I'm so thankful that I have memories like that too!

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