For the Man Who Hated Christmas -by Nancy W. Gavin
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 ten 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. 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 to take down the envelope.
Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit will always be with us.
This true story was originally published in the December 14, 1982
issue of Woman’s Day magazine. It was the first place winner out of
thousands of entries in the magazine’s “My Most Moving Holiday Tradition”
contest in which readers were asked to share their favorite holiday tradition
and the story behind it. The story inspired a family from Atlanta, Georgia to
start The White Envelope Project and Giving101, a nonprofit
organization dedicated to educating youth about the importance of giving.
That story touched my heart because I also had a kind hearted husband at one time who hated Christmas so we would go to Mexico to do subs for Santa. What a great story and what a great tradition! I love the way it
spread to the children and I think it is an awesome tradition for all of us to
implement in our own homes. I am also trying to think of traditions we could start as well. It's never too late to start a new tradition and one I will do is to attend a Christmas devotional each year!
No comments:
Post a Comment