I was about 11 years old. A week or so after Thanksgiving, a pipe busted and flooded two floors of our house. Everything was ruined except what was in our bedrooms on the top floor, but the main floor and basement had about two feet of water. I remember our church and family all came over to help pump the water out and save what we could. I remember I had to stay in my room all day while the adults worked downstairs. I remember my mom crying.
I was old enough to know that Santa was the spirit of giving and not an actual person. And that morning I knew that he probably wouldn't be visiting us that year. We lost so much and had to pay for a lot of damages. And I was right.
As Christmas grew closer, I remember my mom trying to explain to my four younger siblings that Santa wouldn't be bringing much this year. We all had such big hopes for a Christmas miracle. Maybe daddy would get an extra big Christmas bonus.
On Christmas Eve, Mom made us gather around her big bed. Daddy was at work and wouldn't be home until early the next morning. She told us we were going to sing and say a prayer to thank Heavenly Father for all that we did have, even if it wasn't much. Just then, the doorbell rang. Mom went to answer it. I listened at the top of the stairs.
"Sister Hintze, we have a few things here for you. You can protest and pretend you don't need this, but I'm still going to bring it in anyway."
I watched as the Bishop of our ward and one of his counselors brought in two big boxes. I remember feeling a little embarrassed because we didn't have a real floor. The carpet and tile were ruined in the flood. It was just white, bare wood that was left. We had to wear shoes or we would step on splinters.
The bishop shook Mom's hand, wished her a Merry Christmas and then left. We all raced down the stairs to open the boxes.
One box was full of food. Food that we really needed. Mom was especially happy to open that box. She cried. I didn't really care at the time because it didn't occur to me that we were struggling for food, but now that I am a mom myself I know exactly why she cried.
The other box was full of gifts for all of us. Each carefully wrapped with our names on them. Santa had come after all. Mom put the presents under the tree and turned the Christmas lights on. She made us all go back upstairs to her room.
Then we knelt down as a family and thanked Heavenly Father for our Christmas miracle. The spirit was so strong. Mom and I cried. We sang hymns and Christmas songs until mom made us go to bed.
The next morning we were so excited and so thankful we even got to open presents. I got a new outfit for school, some natural colored make up items, a hair brush and a journal. The journal was my favorite. I still have it. Only now it is full of my adventures as a twelve year old in Jr. High. I remember feeling so thankful that someone went out of their way to give my family a Christmas. I never thought I would be on the receiving end of such generosity and charity.
I don't know who did it, but I wish so much that I could thank them and tell them how much it meant to us. We still talk about it as the best Christmas we ever had. It has been 10 years since that Christmas and I still tear up when I remember it.
My mom used to say that Christmas was more than just a day. It is a month long celebration. Decorations, lights on every street and house, parties, excitement, music, selflessness, giving, service... The whole world celebrates all month long. So my holiday season begins right now. I am going to pull out the tree as soon as I can. (Which isn't until tomorrow night, maybe Sunday morning... It depends on how tired I am!)
Merry Christmas!
-Avery
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