GIVING

I just read a post on the Bennett's blog (the6bennetts.blogspot.com) that reminded me of my dad.

Most of you know I was an original "coalminer's daughter" but my dad, though dirt poor, had a heart as big as the sky. When we lived in KY, every Christmas Dad and Mom would pack up several bags of fruits, nuts, candies, and canned vegetables, maybe a freshly killed and cleaned chicken, some salt pork....and, on Christmas Eve, carry them several miles to my grandmothers and the aunts and uncles worse off then we were.

After we moved to Michigan, Dad continued this tradition. Only now, our relatives were better off than we were. What he would do is ask the town marshall in Sumpter for a family who needed help for Christmas. Then he and Mom would make up their bags and boxes and deliver them on Christmas Eve.

One year, after the annual delivery was made, Dad happened to talk to the marshall, who toldhim about another family with five kids who had been over-looked by the township Santa.
Dad fretted and stewed about that poor family all the rest of the day. At supper, he said to Mom that they had to do something. Mom replied that we didn't have enough to share anymore. Dad looked around the table at each of us and asked how we'd feel if we were those little children.

The upshot was...of the two chickens Mom was planning for Christmas dinner, one would go to the poor family. Our fruit salad would be a little smaller...five each apples, oranges, bananas, and a handful of nuts would go in their box. Then Dad did the unthinkable...he asked each of us kids to give up one present we knew we were getting.

Of course, we all balked at first. But Dad talked to us and made us see that giving is more rewarding than getting. We didn't contribute much. As I recall, I gave a fuzzy collar I knew I was getting (there was a girl about my age and those collars were all the rage ...worn with sweaters). Pauline , who was about 13, offered her new socks...but ended up giving new pj's.
Jimmy bargained hard to give away his socks, too...but ended up giving the nine year old boy a cap pistol. Sue gave away the tea set Santa was going to bring her and Margaret gave crayons and coloring book to the youngest.

About ten o'clock pm on Christmas Eve, we all piled into the car and delivered the boxes of goodies. We all stayed in the car while Mom and Dad carried the boxes to the door. When the woman answered the door....Mom and Dad handed her the boxes and said Merry Christmas. Well, that woman broke down. She set the boxes aside and grabbed dad in a stranglehold. Her husband...on crutches....came to the door and when he realized what was going on, he too, cried and hugged Mom. Watching from the car, I sobbed unashamedly.

That made my Christmas that year. nevermind that the family was not the same color as we were. They were so grateful, but like Dad told them, we were the lucky ones....we had enough to share! I never again saw any of them...they lived in a different school district, but I never forgot them, either. Or how wonderful my Dad was!