My Most Memorable Christmas

                                       My most memorable Christmas

My father was a builder of homes, and often after a job he would bring me, my brother and my sisters to the job site and let us rummage through the left overs from the project. We collected small tiles and trim and brought them home to create little houses of our own. Of course we had more that we would ever use, but it was fun building little towns in the sand in the back yard.

After my father had just completed one of his jobs located near the horse racing track, and we finished our scavenger hunt for items for our little town, Dad drove the back way home, over the railroad tracks near a run-down area where migrant workers lived. Conditions were less than tolerable by any measure. My dad drove very slowly just to point out how fortunate we were and how many others in the community had very little. We had nice house, nice clothes, new shoes every year for school and of course many toys from birthdays and Christmas. We had never seen such impoverished circumstances. It was cold outside and there were small children running around without shoes or jackets, and mothers holding their babies wrapped in the hems of their skirts. They sat in the sun light on the weathered porches, often with missing boards just to capture some warmth from the sun.

When we returned home Dad told us that there were two options for Christmas that year. One was he would ask Santa to bring us all brand new bikes or we could help make Christmas special for someone else's family. We asked him" how do we do this?" .
 Dad said he and Mom would set up the garage as a workshop for us to restore and wrap the toys. We were so excited, we told our friends and they wanted to help too. We were on a mission and collected toys, clothes, and household items for all ages for at least five families. Mom helped us put fresh paint on old toys, Dad made doll furniture from the scrapes of wood we brought home from his jobs. We bundled up packages of blankets and bedding, and organize the clothes according to sizes. Dad set up the tables, in the garage, one to work on and one for finished and wrapped items. A few days before Christmas someone donated some turkeys and the fixings for five families. Mom and Dad stayed up cooking and preparing everything.

Christmas eve we loaded my father's two vans with gifts and Christmas dinners, that Mom had carefully placed into large coolers. We all waited until we knew the families would be asleep. Mom loaded the children and a few of the neighbors into our car and Dad and another neighbor drove the vans to the neighborhood by the race tracks.. We very quietly distributed all our gifts, then slipped out of the area as quietly as we arrived.

The next morning we jumped out of bed and ran to our parents room and insisted we drive over to see if anyone found the gifts yet. We jumped into the car still wearing our pj's and waited until Mom and Dad came out. As we came near the area of our Christmas deliveries, we could see the children sitting on the steps in their new clothes and shoes playing with the toys we had fixed up. Occasionally we spotted one of the mothers with a blanket wrapped around a baby and a father tinkering with one of the tools my father left. Dad said he did not want to linger there for fear we would be discovered. But as we drove away that morning we could see out the back window of our car, smiling faces playing with the toys we brought them. I'm not sure who was filled with more joy, those who received the gifts, or those of us who gave them. We talked about the vision we had just witnessed all the way home, never giving any thought to Christmas presents for us.

We got out of the car still filled with the mornings excitement, and headed into the house. As we opened the front door, there in the living room stood the most beautifully lite Christmas tree, that Mom and Dad had put up and decorated completely while we were asleep and under our Christmas tree were five brand new bikes.

I  never forgot that Chistmas... nor the blessings of Giving my Mom and Dad shared with us.