Unexpected Gifts

The story is set in 1931, when many families, suffering from the Great Depression, were out of work and doing their best just to put food on the table. Young Henry, who belongs to such a family, is helping his father sell Christmas trees in Manhattan. When they decide to give the last of their trees away, he thinks, “The best presents are the ones you don’t expect.”

That line has been on my mind all week. And I believe it’s true.

It’s the gifts you don’t expect that bring a unique kind of joy. Like Sami cleaning up the entire living room on her own without my asking. Eliza’s Merry Christmas note for her fairies, and the way she decorated her fairy house, complete with a sled she made out of popsicle sticks.

What fairy wouldn’t love a midnight sleigh ride?

Or Gordon climbing into his brother’s crib and falling asleep. Doug and I found them like this the other night, arms and legs tucked around each other. (We took down the crib tents and converted their cribs to toddler beds. A comedy of errors for another post.)

It’s Doug leaving me a note on the window. Snow gently drifting out of a gray sky. Phrases of scripture that stick in my throat as we read the nativity story aloud.

Gifts are everywhere. And it is pure delight when they catch us by surprise.

So our family decided to join the movement, #26Acts. 26 acts of kindness for each life lost in Newtown, CT last Friday. Ann Curry got the ball rolling early this week by tweeting,

“Imagine if everyone could commit to doing one act of kindness for each precious life lost. An act of kindness, big or small. Are you in?”

We talked to our children Sunday evening about what happened, wanted to arm them with knowledge and comfort in case they heard about it at school the next day. When I read about Ann’s idea, I thought, what better way to combat the horror we all felt? Fight darkness with light. Fill the world with warmth and kindness, and do it when no one expects it.

So we just returned from our first act of kindness.

While buying cinnamon bread at our favorite local bakery, we purchased two extra loaves and asked the woman at the counter to give them to two people in line behind us.

She hadn’t heard of #26Acts so I explained it to her. And as I did, a huge smile spread across her face. “Really?” she said “That is so cool. I’m so excited to do this!”

I asked her not to point us out, wished her a Merry Christmas and we scurried out the door, a herd of little feet hustling to the car. The girls squealed as we drove away. Something giddy gets lit inside when you anonymously do a good turn. And it doesn’t need to require money.

The threads from different articles about #26Acts are inspiring. Just google #26Acts. I get choked up reading the list of instances where individuals purposely offered kindness, surprised the unassuming.

It is true. “The best presents are the ones you don’t expect.”

We’ve continued a few other traditions at home. Every year we fill our santa mugs with hot chocolate, marshmallows, and a candy cane to stir. Then we read The Polar Express by candlelight.

(Can you guess what this girl wants for Christmas? She and her darling friend Caroline sang  “All I want for Christmas…” at the neighborhood Christmas party.)

The Polar Express tradition began years ago when I was a teenager and spent most my weekends babysitting these cute boys and their sister.

One brother got married a month ago, the other yesterday, and visiting with their family last evening was a gift of its own. I babysat for them until I was in college, loved them like my own siblings. Every Christmas I’d bring my book over, we’d make hot chocolate, light candles, and I would read them the story. Yesterday, I looked at their photos on the fridge and thought, how can the circle of life spin so quickly? They’re all grown up….and when did I get so old?

As much as I think the Polar Express movie is fun, I’m kinda sad children know the movie better than they do the book. The movie fills in too many gaps, tells too much story, steals the magic. At least that’s my opinion. So I insist on reading the book every year and letting the wonder of its words spill over us.

Now a couple funnies, followed by a final unexpected gift.

Gordon surprised me one evening with this Mr. Potato Head face. So glad he’s around.

And here we are at the girls’ dance studio. Gordon wearing Eliza’s helmet. I love that tuft of blonde hair sticking out the top. He refuses to take it off most places we go. We get a few funny looks, but it’s a battle I don’t need to fight. And hey, safety first, right?