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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.
3:48 PM
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.
3:51 PM
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!
2:44 PM
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