Cross posted: Warning! Super Sappy Holiday Story: Almost twenty years ago, my family moved from our beloved idealistic country home, to a new town in North Georgia so my siblings and I could attend Georgia Cumberland Academy. It was a rough year. A young friend had passed unexpectedly just before our move, and we knew practically nobody. We had trouble finding a house big enough to fit our family, and ended up in a small rental just outside of town next to a chicken farm. It kinda stank. Literally. My grandparents came through on their way to Florida to celebrate Christmas the second week of December. Our Christmas tree was piled high with gifts. We had finally made this place our home. We lit a lovely fire and fell asleep all cuddled on the living room floor. We awoke to the sound of fire alarms and the smell of smoke. We went out side to wait for the fire department, watching in horror as the water froze in the hoses and the volunteers made error after error. There was a stunned silence and surreal stillness all around as we watched everything we owned devoured by the smoke and flames. The next few weeks were a blur. We lived in a hotel and then a borrowed house. Our lives would never be the same. Our lives would never be ours again. Even at fourteen, I understood this. I understood why my mother couldnt smile and my Dad picked up extra shifts. On Christmas Eve, we went upstairs to watch a movie, a gift for each of us under our Charlie Brown hand-me-down Christmas tree. We had each other. We knew that was all that mattered. The doorbell rang. It was 9:30 at night. My Mom went to answer it and shrieked Kids! Get down here! Our front porch and steps were covered in bags of gifts. We carried in bag after bag. We set them under the tree. And around the tree. And around that. We piled them up to leave room to walk. My mom grinned. It was the first time Id seen that since the fire. My ten year old brother was literally bouncing. Christmas morning we unwrapped the bounty of the thoughtfulness of people we barely knew, if at all. Socks, and toys, and clothes, and socks, and new school back packs, and socks. A lot of socks. I was only fourteen, but I was reminded that there is good in humanity. I learned what it meant to be loved without reason, and that socks must be VERY important. That moment stays with me. When I freak out at the smell of smoke, when I remember that objects are inherently impermanent, when life turns upside down, when I grab my mismatched socks each day; I remember that there is hope. That my life will never be the life I thought I would have, but the world is full of people trying to make it a better place. I still hate the holidays. Im still a giant grinch and a huge Scrooge, but I can recognize this is the time of year when we culturally focus and strive to do good. Your acts of good will, and do matter. Maybe it was buying the new kid a pair of socks twenty years ago... It made a difference. Thank you!
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 01:13:44 +0000
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