Tuesday, December 17, 2013
THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL
THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the
branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my
husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but
the commercial aspects of it overspending ... the frantic running around at
the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for
Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of
anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts,
sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike.
The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year,
was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly
before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by
an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so
ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together,
presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold
uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling
without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's
ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we
ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their
boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false
bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could
have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this
could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids --- all kids ---
and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and
lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went
to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling
headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling
Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the
brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each
Christmas, I followed the tradition --- one year sending a group of mentally
handicapped youngsters, to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of
elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before
Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last
thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys,
would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope
from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave
way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded
cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I
barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on
the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our
children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for
their dad.
The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our
grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching
as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas
spirit, will always be with us.
May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true
Christmas spirit this year and always. God bless---pass this along to your
friends and loved ones.
-- Author Unknown
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <><
To learn more about E-Mail Ministry and read previous messages, visit our
web site at: <http://www.emailministry.org/> http://www.emailministry.org
-- It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the
branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my
husband Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but
the commercial aspects of it overspending ... the frantic running around at
the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for
Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of
anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts,
sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike.
The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year,
was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly
before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by
an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so
ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together,
presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold
uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling
without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's
ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we
ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their
boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false
bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could
have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this
could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids --- all kids ---
and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and
lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went
to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling
headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.
On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling
Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the
brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each
Christmas, I followed the tradition --- one year sending a group of mentally
handicapped youngsters, to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of
elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before
Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last
thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys,
would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope
from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave
way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded
cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I
barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on
the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our
children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for
their dad.
The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our
grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching
as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas
spirit, will always be with us.
May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true
Christmas spirit this year and always. God bless---pass this along to your
friends and loved ones.
-- Author Unknown
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <><
To learn more about E-Mail Ministry and read previous messages, visit our
web site at: <http://www.emailministry.org/> http://www.emailministry.org
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