Hey y’all!
It’s hard to believe that
next week I’ll be in a mashed potato-dressing-turkey coma, but I’m ready for
the goodness.
In today’s post I wanted to
share my story about giving, receiving and gratitude.
When I was a little tot,
maybe 5, I remember my dad coming in Christmas Eve night with a large black
trash bag. It was way past my bedtime and the only reason I was awake, was
because my mom told me I could have a fresh tamale. Insert - I'd do just about anything
for a tamale. Every year my mom would make a ton of tamales and we’d
have a tamale feast for Christmas dinner. I remember seeing him walk in
with the bag, huge smile on his face and watching my mom start to cry. It
was a gentle cry; I think it was happy tears. I remember my dad opening the bag
and all sorts of beautifully wrapped boxes fell to the floor. I walked over and
started looking through the boxes and I saw my name, my little brother’s name,
even my mom’s name. Of course my parents were lame and made me put them under
the tree, not letting me open even one. The next morning we were all in shock
to see the boxes under the tree. I opened a box and it was a beautiful coat for
me, then my little brother opened a box and it was a toy truck, I think some
got perfume, clothes and even more toys.
I remember that day like it
was yesterday. I can still see my mom standing in the room and my dad’s smile.
I remember what I wore that Christmas morning when I opened my box. It wasn't until
years later, that I learned more about that night. The bag my
father carried in, the bag filled with beautifully wrapped gifts, was from
a family who “adopted” our family for Christmas. See, my
parents worked hard to provide the necessities and sometimes that meant that on
Christmas day we had a tamale feast and watched the Christmas Story reruns. The
presents were great, but not a necessity. Up until that day, I never knew
Christmas was to involve gifts, I always thought Christmas was about
family time, mom and dad were both off work and of course tamales for everyone!
I am not sharing my
memory with you to make you feel sorry for me, please don’t you dare.
I grew up with the greatest parents in the world. I know their time on
earth was cut short, but they did their job well. I am blessed with a military
of brothers and sisters, the world’s toughest and most loving brothers and
sisters. Our home was always full of arguments, laughter and great food. I
always had my necessities – God, my family, food, shelter & much more. So
please, don’t carry that with you when reading this post.
My hope is that when reading
my post, God stirred a little in your heart. Maybe God gave you a name, family,
or situation. Maybe God challenged you to give generously this year.
Whatever way you give, give
cheerfully. God truly does honor a cheerful giver.
Be blessed my friends, be
blessed.
