The Christmas Box
Many Christmas seasons have passed following the day of my birth in 1955. Yes; I received lots of gifts over this span of time, and many were lovely and precious. The memory of gifts received one particular Christmas will remain in my heart and mind forever. September 2021 marked the 50th anniversary of my father passing. I believe it’s fitting that I share this special Christmas story with you.
My parents separated when I was a toddler so Mom and I moved in with my grandparents and lived with them for the next 10 years. They looked after me while Mom worked. They were my world and we dearly loved one another.
Growing up, I never really knew the person I called Dad. He was gone from my life from the age of two. Dad was a drifter, yet managed to come and see me at least once a year. Months would pass by without my hearing a word from him. I didn’t like it though if he showed up for a visit with the smell of liquor on his breath. Sometimes I wished my grandmother would tell him I wasn’t home. She did just the opposite. She kindly invited him in and offered a hot cup of tea and a bite to eat. Before leaving, he always said, “I love you,” but in my young heart I wondered if his words were really true.
The Christmas season would come and go. As a child; I recall my stocking always being filled with fruit, candy, and a few gifts, and lots of presents from Mom and other family members. But there was never anything under the tree from Dad. This was the norm, so I never expected to have to a gift to open from him on Christmas morning.
One year though, just a few days before Christmas, Granny arrived home from the post office carrying a box wrapped in brown paper. She was barely in the door when I asked, “Granny, who’s the box for?”
“Well, dear, I believe it’s for you. It has your name on it.”
“Really, it’s for me. Who’s it from?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Open it and you’ll find out.”
She placed the box on the table, and I proceeded to tear off the brown paper. Inside was another box wrapped with Christmas paper with a tag, “To Anne, Love Dad.”
“Granny,” I said excitedly. “Dad sent me a gift. I’ve never received a gift from him before.” I picked up the gift, ready to shake it.”
Granny smiled understanding my excitement. Don’t shake too hard, could be something breakable inside. You better put the gift under the tree until Christmas morning.”
Christmas morning couldn’t come fast enough. After I emptied my Christmas stocking, I grabbed the gift from Dad and opened it. It contained an assortment of things and I loved every one of them. Being a child, I never questioned where he got the gifts to send me. That didn’t matter. For me, this was truly the best Christmas ever. Many years later, I had the opportunity to share the story of the Christmas box with Dad’s sister. My aunt smiled, “I can tell you where the gifts came from. Your Dad went to the Salvation Army and told them that he had a little girl back East, and didn’t have any money to buy her a present.”
Tears filled my eyes, as I envisioned him asking total strangers to help provide me with a gift. Now that I knew the story behind the gift, it had greater significance to me. My eyes fill with tears again as I share this with you. I’ve always respected the work done by the Salvation Army but more so after I discovered what they did for me. I put money into a Salvation Army kettle with a grateful heart. I was one of many children helped that year, and the memory of receiving a Christmas box from my dad is tucked in my heart among all my other precious memories.
Anne-Marie Madore is the author of God Said, “I WILL” Promise Book. She writes a weekly post on her God Inspired Blog. Visit her website at anne-mariemadore.ca
