Believe and You Will Find What You Ask For
There is nothing better than being a kid on Christmas
morning. To wake up early, get your parents out of bed and dash to the tree to
see if Santa made it to your house as expected. Fortunately, my brother and
sister and I were never let down. I will always remember the year I got a
10-speed bike and thought that no gift could ever match it. That bike would
hold the record for “best Christmas present ever” until almost 40 years later
and Christmas 2013.
Years later as a parent, you can’t wait for your own kids to
storm into your bedroom on Christmas morning, which they do many hours
before they would normally peel back the covers. They eagerly awake the entire
family to descend the stairs and sort all of the wrapped packages into piles
and commence the unwrapping. Fortunately, Santa has never disappointed my two
children either, but as any parent knows, or will experience, it gets tougher
to recreate the magic as the teen years progress.
As Christmas 2013 approached I did not know what to expect.
2013 has been a rough year in our house. I have spent all of the year slowly
trying to start a small business after losing my corporate job late last year,
and my wife has proactively been fighting health issues while trying to work
more and make up for our loss of income. That alone was enough of an uphill
battle and thank God spirits remained bright throughout.
Then came August and more health issues. This time for my
mom and this time her trip to the hospital was her last. She had had enough and
had steadily been slowing down over the past few years, even to the point of not eating. Her loss hurt us deeply, though we knew she was at peace.
“Could this year get any worse?” This was a question we asked ourselves only to find it could. After being told
earlier in the year that my mother-in law could possibly have another 5 to 7
years left to live due to a returning cancer, we found out that no matter what
doctors say, it is God’s choice and God did not want to wait 7 years to get her back.
So barely six weeks later, on my oldest daughter’s sixteenth birthday, we tearfully said
goodbye to another Grandmother. We all wondered if this was just a nightmare
that we couldn’t awake from, like Scrooge being visited from the three spirits.
So I sat in church early this Christmas morning praying to
find some spirit. Many memories from Christmases past came flooding my brain
and it was sad to think of how much different this Christmas would be from last Christmas.
I found some peace in the fact that while my wife and I have made new
traditions for our family, we have also continued many that have been passed
down from our parents and our childhood days. I prayed to God for even a small
sign that would bring some peace to a big kid who was feeling a little sorry
for himself after a year filled with loss. I was in need of some cheer.
It was pleasant as I drove home early from mass. There was a
fresh dusting of snow on the ground. The streets were empty. Everything was
closed except for church and the corner gas station. It took me back to a time
when all businesses recognized Sunday as a day of rest and closed to give
people the day off to spend with their families. None of us ever suffered
because stores and other business closed one day of the week and neither did
businesses. Their customers returned when business resumed on Monday. This made
me think more about my childhood and the sadness of spending my first Christmas
ever without at least one parent to celebrate it with.
In our house, Christmas morning is the traditional time for
opening presents. Having a 16 year old and a 15 year old daughter in the house
meant there was no threat of them getting up too early this year to attack
packages and I walked in the door a few minutes before they got out of bed.
Good timing.
We sorted the presents in four piles. We always let the
girls alternate opening packages until they are finished, then my wife and I
exchange gifts. We also each take the girls out shopping every year to have them pick
gifts for mom and dad that we open – and that is our traditional Christmas morning
before we have breakfast.
As my wife and I were picking up all of the spent wrapping
paper, our daughters disappeared. We figured they were trying to avoid that
task (which is also tradition) but reappeared as suddenly as they had vanished.
They had left to get two presents that they had hidden from us.
Because our older daughter started driving this year she
took her sister shopping. They pooled some babysitting and birthday money and
got the idea that they should actually shop for and buy us each a gift this
year.
And there it was, a moment that will play on the video
screen of my memory for all time. They proudly handed those nicely wrapped
boxes to my wife and I. We slowly realized what was happening and looked at
each other to see if either one of us had any prior knowledge of this activity.
There it was, a 50 year old man and a 47 year old woman humbled by an unexpected and much appreciated gesture of two teenaged girls. It could have been anything in those boxes, we didn’t care because they did it all on their own.
And…there it was, my prayer
answered. As we sadly said goodbye to our Mothers this Christmas and I
struggled to find happiness in the season, I realized that as traditions get passed down, others are born - and that 10-speed bike from Christmas past is the best present
I have ever received, until this year. I am a believer.There it was, a 50 year old man and a 47 year old woman humbled by an unexpected and much appreciated gesture of two teenaged girls. It could have been anything in those boxes, we didn’t care because they did it all on their own.
Merry Christmas.
