A Christmas Story

[Subordinate Claws]

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just
a kid.

I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day
my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she
jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my
second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in
town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked
through it's doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a
bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy
something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car."
Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there,
confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he had no good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real
warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for
someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my
ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really
needed a good winter coat.

I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas
paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma
tucked it in her Bible) and wrote, "To Bobby, :From Santa Claus"
on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she
drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she
whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front
door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.

Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed
the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful
rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

[nuttymarble]

What a great story and tribute to your Grandmother! Well written! (sniff sniff)

[Captain Fluffy Flipperflapper]

That's a really nice story! Filled me with Christmas spirit.

[Subordinate Claws]

This was actually sent to me by my Mother as few years before she passed away. I did not author it. But each year when I reread it I am reminded of her compassion and convictions in life and the great spirit she had during the Christmas season and that tried to spread throughout the whole year. Because of her I still believe there are angels walking with us everyday who are making miracles happen in our lives. It could be a friend, neighbor or complete stranger. That's the beauty of miracles.

Miss and love you Mom.

Merry Christmas all.

[kurse]

What a wonderful story and the true meaning and belief of Santa Claus. I tell my children every year that Santa lies within us and the beauty of helping others over ourself.
Thank you so much.