-
17th December 08, 06:26 PM
#1
The True Meaning
Just a little story that I had tucked away. I can't remember who sent it to me but it is one worth sharing. Merry Christmas to all.
AN ADVENTURE WITH GRANDMA
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 every-thing. As we walked through its 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 for 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, and he didn't have a coat. I handled 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," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag 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 write, "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 quietly 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 tag tucked inside: $19.95.
Gentleman of Substance
-
-
17th December 08, 06:51 PM
#2
Thank you Mike. I'm crying.
Be well,
Star
-
-
17th December 08, 08:52 PM
#3
Excellent story. Thanks for posting it.
-
-
17th December 08, 08:55 PM
#4
Big Mikey-- thanks for sharing the story - a merry Christmas to you. We have to go for a pint sometime soon.
-
-
17th December 08, 09:12 PM
#5
Whew! Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus. Thanks Big Mikey for sharing this story. Merry Christmas!
-
-
17th December 08, 09:13 PM
#6
Thank you so much for sharing such a special story!
[B]Paul Murray[/B]
Kilted in Detroit! Now that's tough.... LOL
-
-
17th December 08, 09:23 PM
#7
That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.
Why, a child of five could understand this. Quick -- someone fetch me a child of five!
-
-
17th December 08, 10:37 PM
#8
Great story. Thanks for helping everyone remember the reason for the season!
-
-
17th December 08, 10:48 PM
#9
Thank-you for a timely reminder of the season.It is amazing how much we more we get back when we give freely to others.
Slainte mvath![Very Happy](http://www.xmarksthescot.com/forum/images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif)
Merry Christmas everyone
-
-
17th December 08, 11:10 PM
#10
Phogfan86 took the words right of my mouth.
Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own problems we forget. Thank you Big Mikey for reminding us.
-
Similar Threads
-
By Beck's-a-kilted in forum Kilt Advice
Replies: 21
Last Post: 30th October 08, 07:13 PM
-
By Ramsay in forum Kilt Board Newbie
Replies: 30
Last Post: 12th October 08, 01:33 AM
-
By Southern Breeze in forum Miscellaneous Forum
Replies: 2
Last Post: 19th May 06, 04:35 AM
-
By Rick in forum General Kilt Talk
Replies: 17
Last Post: 29th December 05, 07:29 AM
Posting Permissions
- You may not post new threads
- You may not post replies
- You may not post attachments
- You may not edit your posts
-
Forum Rules
|
|
Bookmarks