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Was shopping fun this year? A fellow was brought before a
judge and was asked what his offense was. He responded, "I was
doing some early Christmas shopping."
The judge was puzzled. "Why are you in this court because
of early Christmas shopping? Early shopping is not a problem.
Just how early were you doing your shopping?"
The reply: "Before the store opened."
Another one. An older woman was cruising a busy parking lot
just before Christmas in her new Mercedes-Benz looking in vain
for a parking space. She finally saw someone loaded with
packages heading for a car, so she followed him, put on her
blinker and waited patiently until he pulled out. Just as he
pulled out a young man in a sleek black Porsche zipped in to the
space ahead of her. She was dumbfounded and outraged, and jumped
out of her car, shouting, "How could you do that? Didn't you see
me waiting there with my signal on?" to which he replied, "That's
what happens when you're young and fast."
As the young man was about to enter the store he heard the
hideous crunch of metal striking metal. He ran back, horrified,
to see that the woman had gunned her Mercedes and smashed it into
his beautiful black Porsche. He ran back and cried, "How could
you do that?" to which she replied, "That's what happens when
you're old and rich!"(1)
Let me share a better Christmas story.(2) It is the story of
a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of a Christmas
tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked
through the branches of trees in that home for the past 10 years
or so.
It all began because Mike hated Christmas---oh, not the true
meaning of Christmas, but the commercialism - overspending...the
frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle
Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts given in
desperation because you could not think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, his wife decided one year to
bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. She
reached for something special just for Mike.
The inspiration came in an unusual way. Their son Kevin,
who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the
school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a
non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city
church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so
ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them
together, presented a sharp contrast to Kevin's team in their
spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, Kevin's folks were alarmed to see that
the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light
helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury
the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, the better-equipped team ended up walloping their poorer opponents. Every
weight class. But as each of the inner city boys got up from the
mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a
kind of street pride that could not acknowledge defeat.
Mike shook his head sadly and said to his wife, "I wish just
one of them could have won. They have a lot of potential, but
losing like this could take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids - all kids - and he knew them, having
coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That is
when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, Mike's wife went to a local sporting goods
store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes
and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas
Eve, she placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling
Mike what had been done and that this was his gift from his bride
this year.
His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year
and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, she followed the
tradition - one year sending a group of mentally handicapped
youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of
elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week
before Christmas, and on and on.
The envelope became the highlight of their Christmas. It
was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and the
children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed
anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to
reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical
presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story does
not end there.
You see, they lost Mike a couple of years ago - cancer.
When Christmas rolled around, his wife was still so wrapped in
grief that she barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found
her placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was
joined by three more. Each of their children, unbeknownst to the
others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The
tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with the
grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed
anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.
Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be
with his family, and now that we know the story, with you and me
as well. Have a Merry Christmas.
Amen!
1. Via Internet, http://www.christmas-community.com/humor/cmas-jokes.html 2. Posted by James J. Stewart, via Ecunet, "Bottom Drawer," #3716, 11/27/98
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