I love reading Christmas stories. It seems like every time I read one, tears start flowing freely down my face. I love the little tug that tears at my heart. I love the warm fuzzies that it brings. Oh, I love reading Christmas stories. As I was going through some papers today, I came across the story of the Simple White Envelope. It is one my favorites.
As I had finished reading this story, I came across another story that is similar to this one but the family in this the story placed white envelopes on the tree sometime during the Christmas season. At the beginning of December, they would gather their family together and talk about the true meaning of Christmas. They would talk about this special time of year and the gifts that they give. They closed their gathering with a simple question, “What will you give Jesus this year?”
Throughout the month, they would ponder on what they would give Jesus. When they decided what they would give, they would write it on the piece of paper, put it in a white envelope and place it on the tree. On the Christmas eve, they would share what was in their envelope. Throughout the coming year, they would work on their gift to Jesus whether it was being more patient, reading their scriptures each day, saying their prayers, having more charity or whatever they felt that they needed to do to increase their testimony of the Savior, Jesus Christ…they wrote on the piece of paper.
When the following Christmas season would come, the little white envelope would be opened again. They would share their testimonies and experiences that they had during the year. Then, they were given a new envelope to place their new gift in.
As I thought about this, I decided that this year I am going to do what they did. What will I give Jesus,this year. My white envelope will be placed in my journal or my scriptures so that I might be reminded of it throughout the year.
What will you give Jesus this year?
Now…for your reading pleasure…
SIMPLE WHITE ENVELOPE
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas--oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma --the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended.
Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.
These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat,he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.
Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, 'I wish just one of them could have won,' he said. 'They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.' Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse.
That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition--one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.
May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.
~Michelle
