The Most Cherished Christmas Gift
The best Christmas gifts involve love and sacrifice between family members.
By Colleen K Pulley
My earliest memory of Christmas was when I was almost four. I can still remember the happiness as I squealed when Dad took me out of bed, threw me into the air and hugged me. Then he carried me into the tiny living room, and there was a tree that would have won Charlie Brown’s heart. Its needles were brown, and the thin limbs could hardly hold the weight of the string of outdoor lights. But to me the most wonderful thing was a dime store rubber doll, dressed as an angel, that spread the Christmas spirit into the bare room.
We were living in Nebraska, and the weather was bitter cold that Winter. These were hard times. Those early years after the war saw many people out of work. The soldiers had come home to families and the factories that had provided jobs to support the war effort were empty. My Dad, like many others, found himself out of work. Dad had family in Illinois, and was able to get a job there in a factory
My Mother told me later how she had scrimped and saved to get a chicken for our Christmas dinner and had hoarded two pumpkins and six potatoes to make mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. She had asked the neighbor women to save any material scraps for her during the year. Old dresses, coats, sheets, and blankets had been torn into strips, and cut into squares. Those discarded items from the neighbors were carefully washed by my Mother. Long after we children were asleep, she would sit up and piece them together. They became scarves, and ruffled aprons, pillowcases, and braided rugs, to put our feet on in the cold mornings.
She would take me and my two sisters every weekend to an elderly lady’s home to clean. We complained and frowned, and we dragged our feet as we followed behind her. The meager coins she received for her labors kept the electricity on, and the tiny house reasonably warm. She did all these sacrifices without a word of complaint.
My Dad later said the small amount of money he got while working in the factory in Illinois was able to pay the rent on our house, but for him home was a garage he shared with five other men trying to take care of their families. He said many nights he went without food to allow a little more money to be sent to my Mother.
Four days before Christmas the men arrived at the factory to work and found the doors locked. With no money, Dad jumped a freight train back to Nebraska. He arrived two days later. He was still thirty miles from town, and after an hour of walking a produce truck stopped and gave him a lift the rest of the way home. Dad said he told the driver where he had been, and where he was going. As the driver pulled to a stop, he told my Dad to wait a moment. He opened the glove compartment and handed my Dad a bag of colorful hard Christmas candies. “Share these with your little ones and get something nice for your wife.” His gnarled hand reached into his pocket and handed a wadded bill to my Dad. “Have a Merry Christmas, Mr. Burke.”, and with that the truck left.
Dad unwrapped the wadded bill and his mouth fell open, for there was a one-hundred-dollar bill. Dad tried to flag the truck down, but the driver only rolled his window down and waved, as it disappeared around the corner.
When Dad came into the house, he found my Mother adding the finishing touch to our family Christmas. She was adding a crooked halo to the dime store doll dressed in her home-made angel garments and paper wings. Hugging my Mother, Dad placed the angel on the top of the tree. Then with a booming voice he roused my older brother and sisters and swooped me out of my bed to the most glorious Christmas a child could have. Many years later I still appreciate that memory of a little girl being tossed into the air, and her Daddy hugging her close, and bringing Christmas into his family’s hearts. Though many years have passed since that cold Nebraska Christmas of my childhood, it still shines bright and has been shared often with my own family.
Christmas Present seems to be filled with brighter lights, high resolution pictures, gifts that are bigger and faster, and the goodies are flavored with spices that were much too expensive for my Mother to buy. But this I do know. We all need to have that certain memory which imprints the holiday that stands out in our minds. Remember, it is not about the most expensive gift, it is the one that tells you you’re loved. That, my friends, is the most prized gift you can receive. May you find this, and then, be sure you share it with the ones you love. Merry Christmas* Until later...Colleen
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