It
was December 23rd. My children and I lived in a
teeny, miniature house. Being a single mom,
going to college, and supporting my children
completely alone, Christmas was looking bleak. I
looked around me, realization dawning like a
slow, twisting pain. We were
poor.
Our tiny house had two bedrooms,
both off the living room. They were so small
that my baby daughter's crib barely fit into one
room, and my son's twin bed and dresser into the
other. There was no way they could share a room,
so I made my bed every night on the living room
floor. The three of us shared the only closet in
the house. We were snug, always only a few feet
from each other - day and night. With no doors
on the children's rooms, I could see and hear
them at all times. It made them feel secure and
made me feel close to them - a blessing I would
not have had in other circumstances. It was
late, almost eleven. The snow was falling
softly, silently. I was wrapped in a blanket,
sitting at the window to watch the powdery
flakes flutter in the moonlight, when my front
door vibrated with a pounding fist. Alarmed, I
wondered who would be at my home so late on this
snowy winter night. I opened the door to find
several strangers ginning from ear to ear, their
arms laden with boxes and
bags.
Confused, but finding their joyous
spirit contagious, I grinned right back "Are you
Susan?" The man stepped forward as he sort of
pushed a box at me. Nodding stupidly, unable to
find my voice, I was sure they thought I was
mentally deficient. "These are for you." The
woman thrust another box at me with a huge,
beaming smile. The porch light and the snow
falling behind her cast a glow on her dark hair,
lending her an angelic appearance. I looked down
into her box. It was filled to the top with
treats, a fat turkey, and all the makings of a
traditional Christmas dinner. My eyes filled
with tears as the realization of what they were
there for washed over
me.
Finally coming to my senses, I
found my voice and invited them in. Following
the husband were two children, staggering with
the weight of their packages. The family
introduced themselves to me, and told me their
packages were all gifts for my little family.
This wonderful, beautiful family, who were total
strangers to me, somehow knew exactly what we
needed. They brought wrapped gifts for each of
us, a full buffet for me to make on Christmas
day, and many "extras" that I could never
afford. Visions of a beautiful, "normal"
Christmas literally danced in my head. Somehow
my secret wish for Christmas was materializing
right in front of me. The desperate prayers of a
mother alone were heard, and I knew right then
that He had sent His angels my way. My
mysterious angels then handed me a white
envelope, gave me another round of grins, and
each of them hugged me. They wished me a Merry
Christmas and disappeared into the night as
suddenly as they had appeared. What felt like
slow-motion time was over in probably less than
a couple of
minutes.
Amazed and deeply touched, I
looked around me at the boxes and gifts strewn
at my feet and felt the ache of depression
suddenly being transformed into a childlike joy.
I began to cry. I cried hard, sobbing tears of
the deepest gratitude. A great sense of peace
filled me. The knowledge of God's love reaching
into my tiny corner of the world enveloped me
like a warm quilt. My heart was full. I hit my
knees amid all the boxes and offered a heartfelt
prayer of thanks. Getting to my feet, I wrapped
myself in my blanket and sat once again to gaze
out the window at the gently falling snow.
Suddenly I remembered the envelope. Like a child
I ripped it open and gasped at what I saw. A
shower of bills flitted to the floor. Gathering
them up, I began to count the five, ten, and
twenty-dollar bills. My vision blurred with
tears, I counted the money, then counted it
again to make sure I had it right. Sobbing
again, I said it out loud. "One hundred
dollars."
Even though my "angels" had
showered me with gifts, they had somehow
understood how desperately money was needed.
There was no way they could have known it, but I
had just received a disconnect notice from the
gas company. I simply didn't have the money
needed and feared my family would be without
heat by Christmas. The envelope of cash would
give us warmth and a tree for Christmas.
Suddenly, we had all we needed and more. I
looked at my children sleeping soundly, and
through my tears I smiled the first happy,
free-of-worry smile in a long, long time. My
smile turned into a grin as I thought about
tomorrow. Christmas Eve. One visit from complete
strangers had magically turned a painful day
into a special one that we would always
remember. With
happiness.
It
is now several years since our Christmas angels
visited. I have since remarried, and we are
happy and richly blessed. Every year since that
Christmas in 1993, we choose a family less
blessed than we are. We bring them carefully
selected gifts, food and treats, and as much
money as we can spare. It's our way of passing
on what was given to us. It is the "Ripple
Effect" in motion. We hope that the cycle
continues and that some day, the families that
we share with will also pass it
on.
Wherever my angels are, I thank
you. And so do many other families. Without
knowing it, you have touched many
lives.
