I have several, but the one that always reminds
me of Christmas is this one:
When I was around 7 years old, our house burned
down to the ground a few days before Christmas. I will never forget
standing out there with a blanket around me on that rainy and sleeting
night. People were running around and screaming. I was just
standing there watching the flames take our house. That night was a night
that I will never forget. My parents were out cleaning buildings and when
they came around the corner, they had no idea that our house was the one
burning. There were 5 children in that house, and we all got out. This was the first time that I saw my daddy cry.
That week, we stayed with my grandmother. I decided that God had given me the gift of art, so I painted Christmas Cards
with the juice from berries or whatever I could make color from. I took
old paper bags and I cut them into Christmas card size, and I took cardboard and made Christmas Cards. I took the cards around the neighborhood and sold
them, so that I could get my family Christmas presents. I went to the
local store on the corner with my little money, and I bought everyone in
my family Christmas presents. Things like pocket knives for my brothers
and father, little toy jewelry for my sisters, some cheap perfume for my momma, and I made some of the Christmas presents out of wood, because I could carve
things. I wrapped them all up in whatever paper I could find and made
ribbons out of newspaper. I was so proud of my presents. My
Grandmother had a tiny tree, so I put the presents out at night and went to
bed.
Early the next morning, I passed out all my presents
and everyone loved them, but there came a knock at the door. My daddy went outside to talk to 3 tall vanilla men. I
thought, “Oh Lord, something else has happened.” Then my daddy came in and
smiled. When we looked up, those men were bringing in baskets and baskets
of food and presents. There was a present with my name on it, and when I
opened that present, my heart dropped. For years I had gone by the hardware
store and saw this tall, beautiful plastic doll. I use to say, “I wish I
could have a doll like this one day.” Each Christmas, I would go up to
that store and look at the toys and just wish! My family didn’t have much
money, but on that snowy Christmas morning, I thought, “Santa sent me that doll.”
It
was the best Christmas ever. I gave to my family, and God gave back to me. . . .
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