A Christmas tragedy became a Christmas blessing

By Stephan Drew

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I’ve been thinking about bygone Christmases, historic and personal. We all have memories of holidays past – some good, some not so happy. At my age, I can reminisce about so many wonderful times and all the heartwarming events that center around the festivities of this season. But there will always be one particular Christmas that sticks out above all the others. It was December 1977. I was 13 years old and I will never forget that weekend. It was a cool, breezy Christmas Eve but not especially cold. My father was an avid hunter and he had several beagles he used to hunt with. He was just in from work, made sure the dogs were fed, watered, safe and secure and then came inside to settle in for the night. After dinner, we heard a lot of barking and loud noises. Dad ran outside to see what was going on and heard noises travelling throughout the neighborhood. Ours weren’t the only dogs barking. Something was going on. So he got into his truck and drove down the street to see if he could find out anything. When he returned a bit later, he told us that a neighbor’s home had burned. They were able to get out with only what they had on at the time – their pajamas and robes – and were forced to stand in their yard and watch as their home was engulfed by fire. By the time the Fire Department got there, nothing could be saved. They had lost everything. Clothing, toys, food, appliances, pictures, Christmas presents, everything. Up until that night, I never knew the true meaning of “total devastation.” When the realization hit me, it was one of the saddest moments in my life. My parents, however, didn’t have time to be sad. Something had to be done for this family and, there was little time in which to do it. They got on the phone and called family, friends and church members. By Christmas morning, they had collected a good deal of money and had a small network of people ready to help. The manager of B.C. Moore opened its doors and the wife whose home had burned was met there by ladies of the church to buy clothes for all the children. The manager of Western Auto opened his doors that Sunday morning. My father and some men from church took the husband there to get bicycles and toys for the young ones. J.L. Weinberg also donated a selection of meat and other items to the cause. After the fire, the family was staying with a neighboring relative and their house was extremely crowded. So it was decided that they should meet at our house nearby that evening to open presents and have some food. Our preacher was a somewhat “healthy” man and stepped up to play Santa Claus. I still remember the silence when they arrived at our house. The parents were smiling, knowingly, and the children, totally unaware of what was going on, were as timid as mice. Unsure of themselves, they slowly stepped inside and exchanged greetings. Then, they heard the “Ho, Ho, Ho!” of Santa as he appeared with a sack of small toys and treats for them. There had been so many contributions that our living room was filled with toys and presents for these children. As they entered, they were told, “All of this is yours, children. We’re sorry about what happened to you and we know it’s a little late. But we couldn’t let you miss Christmas altogether.” You should have seen them! Smiling, jumping up and down, running about, opening presents and screaming with delight. You might have thought they had won the lottery or witnessed a miracle. We all had tears of joy in our eyes, watching their happiness. The smallest of the children walked up to our preacher, took his hand and hugged him. Then, she said, “I love you, Santa Claus!” and we all completely lost it. Soft tears turned into shoulder-shaking sobs. When everyone regained control of themselves, the parents turned to all present, held each other and said, “We don’t know what to say. This is better than what we had bought for them. Thank you so much!” More tears and hugging ensued. Later, we all had some wonderful food, helped them get their presents loaded and they drove away, leaving us warmer inside than any fire ever could have. Family, friends and church members slowly dissipated and, by 10 p.m., we were climbing the stairs to bed and to sleep. Christmas 1977 was over. To this day, I can’t name a single toy or piece of clothing I received that year. But I will never forget that weekend and the warmth that burned in our house for such a long time after that. Not one Christmas goes by without me thinking about it. I hope and pray they are all happy and well. You may be thinking that we helped them. However, I can’t thank them enough for what they did for us that night. The love and joy that filled our hearts was the greatest gift we could have received. The Spirit of Humanity lives in all of us. Sometimes, we shut it out as the mundane business of our daily lives gets in the way. Then something happens that we think is a tragedy. But it’s a blessing in disguise. In those times of crisis, our hearts open and we feel emotions we have long suppressed. I urge you to do what you can for those in need this season … there are many. And I ask you to not only pray for them but also give as much as you can throughout the year as well. Love and warmth shouldn’t only be given and received at Christmastime. They are gifts to be shared each and every day. Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you and your loved ones have a happy and healthy holiday!

Author: Stephan Drew

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