A Christmas Story!

It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of the >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 ~ the >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 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. 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 and gold >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 little >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, the 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 due 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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