The Christmas Envelope.....
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
Author Unknown
from Sowing Seeds Ministry
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
Author Unknown
from Sowing Seeds Ministry
What a wonderful reminder of the beauty of giving, with the heart- and the influence
