is one of my very favorites. I would love to find an "envelope" gift on my tree!
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 that 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, 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 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 youth
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,
their 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 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)
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