The miricles at Christmas

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.
I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my
bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the
bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
dummies know that!"



My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I
fled to her that day because I knew she would be
straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the
truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a
whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her
"world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were
world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be
true.



Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm.
Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready
for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted....



"Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been
going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain
mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."



"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even
finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where"
turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store
in town that had a little bit of just about
everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma
handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those
days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something
for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the
car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.



I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping
with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything
all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full
of people scrambling to finish their Christmas
shopping. For a few moments I just stood there,
confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering
what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.



I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends,
my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went
to my church. I was just about thought out, when I
suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with
bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me
in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.



Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because
he never went out to recess during the winter. His
mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that
he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker
didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I
fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.
I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!



I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it.
It looked real warm, and he would like that.



"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady
behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten
dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for
Bobby."



The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how
Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get
any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled
again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.



That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a
little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it
in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and
wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.



Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house,
explaining as we went that I was now and forever
officially, one of Santa's helpers.



Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by
his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All
right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."



I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw
the present down on his step, pounded his door and
flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.



Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for
the front door to open. Finally it did, and there
stood Bobby.



Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments
spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's
bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors
about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they
were-ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we
were on his team.



I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked
inside: $19.95.



May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and
FRIENDS that care...



And may you always believe in the magic of Santa
Claus!

 

Tags: Love