By: Nancy W. Gavin
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it - overspending and 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 couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was on the wrestling team at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in there spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It's a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well we ended up walloping them. We took every weight in class. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly,"I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loves kids - all kids. He enjoyed coaching little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to the 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, I placed a small, white envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done, and that this was his gift from me.
The white envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children - ignoring there 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 small, white envelope never lost its allure.
The story dosen't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree. And the next morrning I found it was magically joined by three more. Unbrknownst to theothers, each of our three children had for the first time placed a white envelope on the tree for there dad. The tradition has grown and someday it will expaned even further with our grandchildren standing to take down that special envelope.
Mike's spirt, like Christmas will always be with us.
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Short stories
Short StoryI didn't write ANY on the stories in this book! I simply think they have good morals or that the story is entertaining.
