This story touch my heart and soul...... May we all take the time to find Christ this year.
In our hearts. In our minds. In our lives. As we do, there shall we find JOY!
A CHRISTMAS DREAM
By David LeFlor Norberg
“And behold, he shall be born of Mary, at Jerusalem which is the land of our forefathers, she being a virgin, a precious and chosen vessel…”
James 5:14-15
As we drove toward home, the brilliant light of the full moon danced upon the freshly fallen snow. The Christmas lights twinkled on the houses, making them come alive like something out of a storybook, flashing messages of joy and cheer. It was a beautiful night. Thoughts of happiness filled the crisp, winter air as the season approached, but not for my wife, Annie, and I. We were returning from the drudgery of the busy malls where it seemed that the Christmas spirit had fled, replaced by “I was here first!” People climbed over people to get the last item in stock, or pushed and shoved to be the next in line. It took whatever happiness the season had awakened totally out of our minds. Somehow the Christmas spirit was gone from me, and it looked like Annie had almost lost it, too.
We had gone from store to store trying to find the last thing on our Christmas list, a German-made train set (LGB), for our oldest boy, Willy, who had asked once again for it for Christmas. We finally located one in an exclusive toy store. When I saw the price tag on it, I gasped. It was over three hundred dollars, and the extra train cars he wanted running about thirty-five dollars apiece. We would be into it for more than five hundred dollars! I looked at Annie and didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t spent this much on our other two boys together, not even half that amount. We wondered if we should spend this much for Willy? Neither one of us were sure what we should do, but I reminded myself how Willy had asked for this same train set for the past two years. My business was doing very well this year, and it would look great around the Christmas Tree. Why not? Looking at Annie, I smiled and said, “Let’s get it for him. I’ll bring him back on Saturday so he can pick his extra train cars?” Annie was caught a little off guard, and asked, “Won’t that ruin the surprise for him?” “It will a little, but he’s ten years old now and understands the Santa concept?” I paused as if to justify my actions. “Besides at these prices, we should make sure they are what he wants, and not have to return any of them.” Annie, somewhat hesitantly agreed, and we purchased a starter set and went on our way home. Now the newly-fallen snow slowed the traffic to a crawl, and it was taking almost two hours to get home. Sometimes I wished that Christmas wouldn’t come around each winter because all the traffic snarls it caused, but that was a fleeing thought. When we walked into the house, I heard the phone ringing before one of the boys picked it up. I overheard my son say, “Yes, Bishop, my dad just walked in.” Then in a voice that only an eight-year-old has, he screamed, “Daaaaaddddd, TELEPHONE! It’s the Bishop!” I told him I would take it in the study, and after closing the door, I picked up the phone, embarrassed that the Bishop had heard my son’s yell.
“Hello, Bishop. How can I help you this evening?”
“Hi, Brother Norberg. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I’ve run into a little problem that could use your help. Wondering what the problem was, I asked somewhat reluctantly, “How can I help?” “Well,” the Bishop paused, as if trying to figure out the right words to say. “We have a new family that just moved into our ward a few weeks ago. They are having financial problems. The father has just been laid-off from his job and the mother has her hands full trying to take care of their four children while her husband is out looking for work.” I knew where the Bishop was heading with his story and I wasn’t very excited about helping out, especially since we had just spent such a large amount of money on Willy’s gift. “So you can imagine,” the Bishop continued, “they aren’t going to have much of a Christmas this year unless we help.” He paused again, “We were hoping that with your company’s company's buying power, that maybe you could help us?” Knowing I would probably regret my next statement, I continued, “Sure, Bishop, what can I do?” “We have found out that this family of six doesn’t have a washer and dryer, so the mother goes to the Laundromat three nights a week. We have come up with three hundred dollars from other member donations…hopefully, with your discount, we can get them a new washer and dryer for Christmas?” I wanted to laugh. Even with the discounts I could arrange, they were still short a few hundred dollars, even for the low-end machines. I thought I might as well tell him the truth. “Bishop, you’re about two hundred dollars short, including my discounts.” There was a long pause, then the Bishop responsded, “We thought that we might be, Brother Norberg, but we hoped that maybe…” He paused as if to get the courage to ask what was on his mind, and said, “…maybe you could help make up the difference?” Somehow, that didn’t seem to shock me, I almost expected it. Because I was tired from the long evening shopping, and driving in the snow, my answer wasn’t too enthusiastic. “Bishop,” I said, “let me see what I can do. I’ll get back to you?” The Bishop thanked me and hung up. Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I told my wife about the phone call with the Bishop. I quizzed her to see what she thought about it all. In spite of her tiredness, her eyes glowed with excitement at the thought of helping someone else with their Christmas. She reminded me about how ten years earlier someone had helped us because I was out of a job. Now we had the chance to reciprocate. The more she talked, the more enthusiastic she became. She came up with a noble idea, use the three hundred dollars from the Bishop and ward for Christmas gifts for the family, and we would provide the washer and dryer to this family ourselves. Still very tired, and not sharing her enthusiuasm, I left the decisions to her, and told her that I would arrange for a new washer and dryer to be delivered on Christmas Eve for the family. The next day at work was a hectic one, but I managed to call the Bishop and tell him that I would take care of the washer and dryer. The Bishop responded that he already knew; Annie had called to tell him of the change of plans. She had also received all the necessary information on each of the children. The Bishop thanked me for my deep love of my fellow man, told me I would be richly blessed. I listened, rolled my eyes, and gave a long sigh, then hung up. I called a good friend of mine, Dan, who owned an appliance outlet, and explained what I wanted. Surprised at my friend’s response, I listened as Dan eagerly told of his wish to be a part of the surprise. He would give us the top-of-the-line models at the low end pricing, and he would have it delivered on Christmas Eve with big red ribbons. I couldn’t believe it. Everyone was getting into the act, yet I still felt so numb to it all.
That evening our family went to Temple Square to see the Christmas lights and listen to the story of the Savior’s birth. Staring at the snow-covered nativity figures, I could sense the growing awe that filled my son with wonderment. Standing hand in hand with Willy, I was touched to see him so moved by the Spirit of the Season, it seemed we were all engulfed by that same spirit. On the way home, Willy talked about the true meaning of Christmas and how he wished we could help someone, like Jesus had taught us to do. Annie picked up on this moment and told the children about a family that needed help this Christmas, and did they want to help? The boys were thrilled with the idea, and a plan was set in motion to do the shopping that very next Saturday. The day arrived, the last Saturday before Christmas, and we scurried between stores at the mall. Annie took the younger boys with her to shop for the “Christmas Family,” and I took Willy with me to the toy store to get the long-awaited train cars. Willy jumped up and down with excitement as we selected the cars he’d wanted for so long. It was a dream come true for him. He wanted to tell everyone, but was specifically instructed against it. His brothers still believed in Santa Claus, and even Willy’s jubilation shouldn’t spoil that secret for them. Nevertheless, Willy knew this was the best Christmas a boy could ever have. He was thrilled to think that he would finally get his long-awaited Christmas wish.
Later, we all met in front of the big department store. Annie and the younger boys had gotten all the gifts for the “Christmas Family,” except one, the oldest boy who was eight-years-old. They pondered what they might get for him that would make his Christmas special, and finally decided on a new bicycle. I looked at Annie and asked how much she had left from the three hundred dollars? She told me, “about ten dollars.” Shock! But my dismay was quickly melted away by our sons excitement for the bike, so I smiled and said, “Let’s go and get the bike.” The day before Christmas finally rolled around, I checked with my friend, the washer and dryer had been delivered. The boys and Annie had spent the last couple of days wrapping gifts, and filling the house with the smell of cookies they made for the family. Willy spent the morning in our food storage room putting together a couple of boxes of food as a final gift. I called the father of our “Christmas Family” and told him we had some gifts for his children and would like to bring them over after they had gone to bed. The father humbly gave me a time, and address, and quietly hung up. I felt compassion for this father’s embarrassment as I had been there myself, and I wanted to make this task as anonymous as possible. I decided to take Willy along to hurry with the delivery. That way, only Willy, Annie, and I would know who this family was. The boys loaded the van, and I explained to them that Santa would pick them up from there and deliver the packages on his rounds with his reindeer, they understood, and I whispered to Willy that I needed his help later to deliver them when his brothers were asleep. Willy happily agreed, and I stressed the importance of respect and anonymity for this family. He could never tell anyone who they were, Ever! That is the way Savior would want it. Willy Understood.A light snow fell as Willy and I drove the ten blocks to our new neighbor’s home. It was a small house, and the freshly-fallen snow made it look so peaceful and serene. The glow from the fireplace warmly lit the living room and was the only light coming from inside as we approached their humble abode. We saw our breath in the crisp, cold air, and heard the crunch of the snow beneath our feet, we carried our gifts toward the house. We quietly knocked on the door, careful, determined not to wake the children.
The door was opened by an older gentleman, who greeted us with great humiliation. Inviting us into his home, we smelled the familiar pine scent and saw a small Christmas tree with a single strand of lights around it, with only a few presents beneath it. I noticed that the only heat seemed to be coming from the fireplace. On the couch was a woman stroking a small boy’s curly brown hair as he cuddled under a blanket to keep himself warm. He was sound asleep. I could see, as I looked into the mother’s eyes, that she had been crying. The father motioned to Willy and I to be quiet, and he gently picked up the boy to carry him off to bed. When the blanket fell away, we noticed braces, with leather straps that held them in place, running down both sides of his deformed, thin, little legs. Willy was mesmerized by the boy; my heart melted as I viewed the little boy. I felt a large lump in my throat as I gratefully compared my three healthy sons, as well as my ample income, to their meager means and situation of this humble family.
As the father left the room, the mother got up, shook my hand, and introduced herself. She explained that her son was in constant pain and had trouble sleeping. She found that reading to him helped take his mind off his painfully crippled legs. I introduced her to Willy as the father came back into the room. I watched Willy start putting the gifts under the tree, pausing at times as if deep in thought. Willy then went back out to the van to get more gifts, and each time he would pause, as if trying to understand what he had just seen. I spent the time talking to the father about his job search for an accountant position. Fortunately, I knew someone who was looking for just such an employee. I promised to help him obtain the position right after Christmas. I listened as he said how the little money they had left was being eaten up by medical bills for their handicapped son. They explained all this to me with emotion filled voices, and not complaints, and remarked what a loving child he was, and that their family didn’t consider him a burden; that all their sacrifices were worth anything the family had to endure. I felt something stirring deep within my heart, for as a father, I too understood this kind of love. When Willy had finally finished bringing in all the gifts, except one. He said it was too heavy for him to handle by himself, and sat quietly on the couch, deep in thought. He picked up the little boy’s book, apparently well-worn from the many readings by the mother. I too remembered the last gift in the van, and excused myself to go and get it. I felt nervous about the gift, knowing it was a bicycle. I just didn’t know what to do about it now. I reasoned that they could exchange it for something else after Christmas. Praying for help to explain the bike to these wonderful people, I pondered how I could have been so ignorant. Why hadn’t I done a little more checking with the Bishop before we bought this gift? But I hadn’t, because I had been too arrogant, and self centered to ask for more details about them! Now I prayed that they would understand my thoughtless mistake.
As I started to pull out the bike, I felt Willy tugging on my coat sleeve. “Dad,” he said, then paused until he got my full attention. “I’ve got an idea…and please don’t get upset at me.” He spoke in such hushed tones that I could barely hear him. “What is it, son?” I asked, giving him my full attention. “I wish ...” he paused, then took a big swallow. “I want that boy to have my new train set…and…and I’ll take the new bike!” As he spoke he looked at the ground, waiting for my response. I stared in astonishment. I wondered if my son knew what he was saying. He was offering to give away a dream, one that he’d had for two years…and to a total stranger! The image of five-hundred dollars worth of train stuff flashed through my mind. How could this be? Stunned, I blurted out, “Why, son?”
“Dad,” Willy said, looking into my eyes, “We know he will never ride a bike and I know he wants a train set?” I stared in disbelief as he continued. “The book his mom was reading to him was The Big Book of Trains.” Then Willy said something that struck me deep within my heart. “You told us that Jesus taught that it is more important to give than to receive…so, I’d like to do what He taught, in honor of His birth.”
I looked at my son. Willy’s eyes were pleading as tears gently fell from them. “Are you sure, son?” I managed to utter. Willy nodded yes. I hugged him tightly as I felt the tears well up in my own eyes. “Willy, go tell them we forgot one gift and we will be right back with it.” As I watched my ten-year-old son literally run to the door with excitement to give them the message, my heart swelled with pride for him. Willy had shown more love than most adults ever do. In fact, more love than I had shown. I had never been so simply taught the true meaning of Christmas and the gift of sacrifice. It was an act of pure love. One that was supposed to be so universal, especially at this season. My son had just given me the greatest gift without even realizing it - an example of pure, selfless, sacrificing love for his fellow man. As we returned later to that humble home with the extra gift, I watched my son beam with joy as he carried the packages to the door all by himself. The mother of the young crippled boy warmly gave Willy a heartfelt hug and a wave goodbye. I had just witnessed the miracle of Christmas expressed lovingly that night by a young child - my child. The meaning of sacrifice took on a new significance that night as I looked upon my son’s face and thought of another little boy so long ago in Bethlehem.
Christmas morning was a special one for Annie and I as we watched our boys excitedly open their gifts. Especially as we saw Willy’s satisfaction, smiling at his new bike. He knew. We knew. We’d always know. That bike would always hold special memories for all of us, and the true meaning of Christmas in our hearts. It was a Christmas wish come true.
(This story is based on a true incident from the author’s life).
All names have been changed to protect privacy.
© Copyright 2011. David LeFlor Norberg. All Rights Reserved.http://www.ldsshortstories.com
