Best Christmas Gift
“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 at this time of year for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband, Mike hated Christmas. Not the true meaning of
Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it. You know - the 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. 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 couldn't afford. Well, we ended up
walloping them. We took every weight class. 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. He understood kids in competitive situations, 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 challenged 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 so 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… we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When
Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the
tree up. Yet 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 their envelopes. Mike's spirit, like the spirit of
Christmas, will always be with us.
The best Christmas gift of all is the presence of a happy family all wrapped up
with one another.”