Gift of Giving ...

I am not alone at all, I thought.  I was never alone at all.  And that, of course, is the message of Christmas.  We are never alone.  Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent, for this is still the time God chooses. ~ Taylor Caldwell

 

 

Back in the early 80's, living in a small bohemian three-story apartment building, offered a richness of neighbourly kinship.  Nine separate stories intertwined with each other by the coming together of impromptu barbeques, the sharing of a glass of wine (or two) on a common balcony complete with guitars and songs to celebrate someone's success or the quiet moments with each other to support another in grief and the simple daily, "How are you today?"  We knew each other's names, each other's families and more importantly each other's stories. 

It came to be one fall, that our newest family came upon hard times with the loss of employment.  This little family of five did not live beyond their means prior to the accident, and so with the loss of this single income we all knew that it was only a question of time before the cupboards would be bare.  We did what we could, always being respectful of their pride.

One frosty morning, I was a little late to get out to work and was rushing past their door when the wee ones came out to make their way to school.  I was greeted with large munchkin smiles.  It was brief but long enough to see that their snow suits were too small, that their hands were bare and a thin scarf served as caps.  I bought wool on my way home that night.

For the next few weeks, I sat over my lunch hour and through the evenings knitting large scarves that doubled as hats (all the rave back then) for each one.  The magic caught on with a co-worker asking who I was knitting for.  After finishing telling her about this family, she offered to knit the mittens to ensure that I would be able to finish in time for Christmas.  I handed over a ball of wool for each.

This same co-worker walks in the next week with a large box.  She was all bubbly and excited.  "Look," she says,  "I happen to chat with a friend about this family and they showed up with this!"  It was a box filled with snow suits and boots for each of the children.  We hugged and cried.  Somehow, I managed to lug this large box back to the apartment using public transit.  I received a lot of exasperated stares but they were lost on me!

Giddy as a schoolgirl, I just had to share this wonderful story with the others.  We gathered, we planned; there would be enough for a Christmas feast. 

In the wee hours of December 23rd, the neighbours started scurrying about, depositing boxes of food, clothing and gifts knee deep in front of their door.   We rushed back to our doors to listen as the last neighbour knocked.  We stood listening, waiting ... waiting ... and then it came!  A loud shriek!  I looked up and smiled at the others as we quietly closed our doors.

That evening, as I approached the apartment building I could hear the merry giggles of the munchkins playing in the snow.  They were beaming and verbally climbing over each other to inform me that Santa had come early!

Indeed, little ones, Santa did come early for everyone.