The Christmas Family

I don’t remember when it began.  With seven children in the family, money was tight; even though I was the only girl, I wore my brothers’ old hand-me-downs.  Sometimes Mom would sew trim on the pants or coats to make them more feminine, but they were still boys’ hand-me-downs.  The only things that weren’t theirs first were undergarments and dresses, and those came from an older girl next door.  I wanted something of my own, something that had never belonged to anyone else.  Like I said, I don’t remember when it began, but I think I was in third grade.  I had finally gotten something all my own.  My brother’s old coat still fit him and I hadn’t been given one by the first snowfall, so we went to the store and purchased the least expensive coat there.  It wasn’t fancy; it wasn’t fuzzy; it wasn’t even pretty, but it was mine and that was all that mattered.  A week later the neighbor brought an armload of outgrown garments and there was a coat.  I’d already worn mine so they couldn’t take it back.  I went to school happy in my coat, and came home happy one day…without it.

“Where’s your new coat?” Mama asked, horrified.

“I gave it away,” I began.  I didn’t get very far.

“You what?  Gave it away?  You loved that coat!  Said it was the first thing every truly yours and you were going to keep it forever!”  Her hands were on her hips and I could see her skirt and apron swaying as her body shook with rage.

“But Mama,” I protested, my hands clasped tight together under my chin for warmth, “the girl I gave it to doesn’t even have hand-me-downs!”  I pointed outside.

Mama peered out the window and saw a small family huddled on the porch peering back.

“I told them to come home and get warm.  I said you make the best cookies after school, and I would let them have mine ‘cause they’re hungry,” I explained.

Mama’s face softened and she invited them in.  She blushed as they thanked her over and over for her generosity.  Soon we were all seated around the kitchen table eating cookies with hot cocoa. 

Papa burst through the door in a flurry of snowflakes and stomped his boots on the mat.  “What’s the party?” he called cheerfully, spying the group.  Mama met him with a whispered conversation.  My new friend Jenny was playing with my only doll while my brothers played a board game with her brother James.

As Papa came towards me I stood.  “So, you’ve been spreading a bit of Christmas cheer, I hear,” he teased.  He bent down, put his hands around my waist and whisked me off my feet, upside-down, and up over his shoulder.  I giggled with glee as he spun in a circle, feeling dizzy for a moment when he stopped.

Jenny’s family stayed through Christmas and New Year’s.  We didn’t have many presents, but there was something for each person.  We didn’t have any big fancy meals, but no one went hungry.  Jenny’s Mom helped Mama around the house with chores and mending jobs she took in to earn extra money and Jenny’s Dad went to work with Papa.  On New Year’s Eve, the two came in arm in arm whistling and Papa exclaimed, “Hey, everyone, Mike has an announcement.”

Jenny’s Dad stomped the snow from Papa’s old boots just as Papa had always done.  “I got hired!” he shouted, throwing his arms open wide.  Jenny’s Mom ran and tearfully hugged her husband while Mama clung to Papa, looking on with a satisfied smile.  The two couples danced a celebratory waltz around the living room before dropping, laughing, onto the sofa.

Jenny’s family soon found an apartment.  They visited often, always thanking us for being so kind to them.  The truth was, we enjoyed every moment of it; it had been the best holiday ever.  “Christmas should always bring out the best in people, make us reflect on how fortunate we are, and remind us to help others who are less fortunate,” Papa said one evening.  He took me in his arms and continued, “It took the heart of this child to teach us that lesson, but I say ‘let’s never forget it.’”

It became a family tradition to help less fortunate families at Christmas.  Every year we would save what we could to put extra presents under the tree.  Someone would always turn up.  We kept outgrown clothes in a box downstairs and shared them with our “Christmas Family”.  Jenny’s family adopted the same tradition of helping others.

“What happens when we’ve helped everyone and there are no more ‘Christmas Families’ to bring home?” I asked one year, worried our tradition would end.

Mama smiled sadly, “I don’t think that time will ever come, but if it does, we will celebrate that no one is left out cold and hungry for Christmas.

Jenny’s family was our first “Christmas Family” but every year we adopt another.  Now that we are grown and on our own we each help a family.  Sadly, as Mama predicted, there has never been a shortage.  This year, my “Christmas Family” is a single mother with two-year old twin girls.  She had been taking college courses online when her husband beat her and threw her and the children out on the street.  Now she uses my computer to take her courses.  She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve set the wheels in motion for her to be interviewed at my brother’s accounting firm in town. 

What will next year bring?  I don’t know, but this year alone, there are thirty-eight less people going cold and hungry for Christmas and New Year’s because of our “Christmas Family” tradition.  How many are being helped by Jenny’s family and the other families we’ve helped who then extend that favor to others, I can’t say for certain, but it is a great number indeed.

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