The Christmas I Learned About Giving
Sometimes the best present is the one you give away
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During yesterday’s Christmas meal, I had a flashback to a long-forgotten holiday memory I thought I’d share.
Before moving to Pine Bluff, Arkansas, our family rented a house in a modest neighborhood in Little Rock. We were close to the poverty line in those days. Somehow, our parents managed to keep us from feeling poor. My three brothers and I always had all the things we needed and most of what we wanted.
At Christmas time, the toys always came in abundance. The four of us somehow managed to receive more than we dared to expect.
There is one Christmas from those days that is burned into my memory. It was a day of Hot Wheels racetracks and G.I. Joe soldiers. At some point that morning, our father asked us to pick our favorite toy from the day’s haul. Then to our dismay, he informed us that we had to give the toy to a needy child.
My father’s plan didn’t go over well. I remember the anger I felt, the sense of betrayal. Why hadn’t I picked a different toy, one I’d be more willing to give away?
Later that morning, the family piled into our Oldsmobile. After driving for what seemed like an hour, we finally stopped at a random home in a rural area outside of town. Compared to this shotgun-style abode, ours seemed palatial.
A swarthy Black man in a cap and bibbed overalls and a woman I assumed was his wife emerged from the home. As we exited our car, gifts in hand, a pair of children eyed us with curiosity from inside the screened front door.
Minutes later, the family waved goodbye as we backed out of their dirt driveway and onto the highway. We’d made their Christmas.
My parents were excellent cooks, but they disagreed about the Christmas dinner menu that day. Would the main course be turkey, ham, or prime rib? In the end, they agreed to serve all three entrees.
Around dinner time, my mother noticed one of our friends standing across the street, peering into our dining room. Without hesitation, she invited him in. That year he had Christmas at our table, no questions asked.
The name of that man in the overalls and his family has faded from memory, as has the exact location of the home we visited that Christmas morning. Soon after that holiday, we left that neighborhood and the friend who shared Christmas dinner behind for a new life in Pine Bluff.
All that remains from that day is the memory of an abiding feeling of satisfaction, a warm feeling gained from the realization that sometimes the best gift you can receive comes from the things you learn to give away.
