I wasn't very old when I figured out the difference between the well-to-do's and the not-so-well-to-do's. I had plenty of classmates in school demonstrating the difference on a daily basis.
Those in the first group carried themselves as though they were the salt of the earth. As an old boss of mine used to say about such people, though, "I'd like to buy them for what they're really worth and sell them for what they think they're worth."
Those in the second group, on the other hand, always treated one another as friends and would be there in a heartbeat to lend a helping hand if you needed it.
I've known for a very long time that I was...and, for that matter, still am...perfectly happy being a card-carrying member of the latter group. At least, I don't have to worry about drowning from walking around in a rainstorm with my nose stuck in the air. And further, the fact I went through some lean Christmases while growing up only served--as far as I'm concerned--to make me a better person.
This intro brings me to an article I found online yesterday concerning a family who found themselves going through some lean times of their own one Christmas.
Author/Songwriter
Close your eyes. Can you remember your favorite Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? Were there icicles dangling off the eaves? Was the landscape smoothed out in snow like a wool blanket draped over a bed? Was there one gift or 10? Maybe there were no gifts at all, and that is exactly the reason why this one particular year sticks out in your mind. Lean times have a way of drudging up gratitude that we didn't even know we could muster.
I recall such a chilly Christmas Eve night long ago. We just had tucked three little ones into bed. We were tired from already spending a day with family and then a service at church way past time when toddlers should have been asleep.
Our humble little tree was cut down and hauled in from the farm. There were not going to be towers of gifts holding up the spindly branches. It was one of those "lean" years. Medical bills had piled up. Possessions didn't matter; two cribs and a toddler bed held our precious treasures.
I had sewed, and my husband had sawed. There were simple, homemade gifts, and three skinny stockings hung without the delight of many bulges or toys peeking out the top. But we were in our little house. We were warm, safe and together. And I wept like a baby, as I was overcome with just how much we had been undeservingly blessed. There were no gifts for one another. There was barely money to scrape together for groceries. But to us, it was a precious time.
After a full day of celebrating with our little brood and extended family on Christmas Day, we finally trudged home with tired little ones yet again. Our hearts were full. Unpaid bills could not put a damper on our contentment. Our arms were full of babies, bundles and grandparent gifts. We almost missed the envelope on the table. To this day, we have no idea who left the $100 bill.
Years later, when this family's oldest daughter was set to have a "lean" Christmas, too, Mom and Pop crept in like elves while the daughter and son-in-law were celebrating with his family and washed the dishes in the sink and swept the floor. They also stocked the fridge and then stacked presents under the tree until ornamented branches were propped up by boxes of all sizes.
There was a phone call later that sounded like sobbing gratitude.
Said Mom and Pop, "We understood. We had been there. We give, and we receive. We bless, and we are blessed. We remember, and we look ahead, full of gratitude for the greatest gift to mankind ever. That gift taught us what love is, how to give it, and how to receive it."
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