Thoughtful Thursday 

Put a Little Love in Your Heart

Christmas in the mid 1960’s was a different time, a simpler time. When I was eight or nine years old, we lived up a holler in Ferndale, Kentucky. Not only did we live, “up the holler,” but we lived at the, “head of the holler.” 

On one particular Christmas Eve,a heavy snow had blanketed the ground. We’d had one of those systems come through, so it snowed for days and days and days. When I looked out the window, I saw that the snow had reached the bumper of the car. Daddy called it a, “thigh-high” snow. It was a beautiful,heavy snow that hung on the boughs of the trees. Icicles hung from the eaves of the house. The dirt road leading to our house was completely covered. There was no way that we could get out, or anyone could get in. That was okay with us. Like I said, times were simpler then. 

We had very few store bought presents. Daddy always managed to bring a few special treats home at Christmas time, such as apples, oranges, nuts, and Christmas candy. He had already bought those, so we were set. Also, it wasn’t uncommon for us children to exchange gifts that we already had. The spirit of giving was the same. A few items exchanged ownership, and we were happy. Daddy had a good fire built. Mommy was cooking dinner. That’s what we called our midday meal, not supper, which was what we called our evening meal. We were warm and well fed, even though the snow continued to fall and fall and fall, drifting down in huge flakes that looked like a picture postcard. For a while, we would go out and play in the snow, making snowmen, having snowball fights, and breaking off icicles and eating them like treats. Then we would get cold, and come inside to warm by the fireplace and coal stove.

For the past few years, our family had received a Christmas basket from the Binghamtown Baptist Church. It was such a nice gesture! There was usually a big box filled with canned ham, various canned vegetables, a sack of flour and a sack of meal, a bag of potatoes, a white coconut cake, and a small toy for each of us children. My brother may have gotten a ball or toy car or marbles, or perhaps a knife. My sister and I may have gotten a little doll or some bobjacks or paper dolls or crayons and a coloring book. We were delighted! We felt so special and so loved. My daddy was unable to work during this time, so we really appreciated anything we got. When they brought the basket from church, we were not made to feel poor in any way. It was not about the giving but about the loving. They always had prayer for our family before they left, and Mommy always offered them something to eat. They would always say, “Thanks, but we have to deliver some more baskets.”

But, on this particular Christmas Eve, the roads were bad. The electricity was off  because of the heavy snow on the power lines. We had passed the time by playing in the snow, eating dinner, and playing Scrabble. Of course, Daddy played his guitar, and we sang hymns and Christmas carols. Although nobody mentioned it, we all knew that there was no way that anyone from the church would be able to bring us a basket this year. The roads were just too bad. Then, one of us children…and I don’t remember which one…said in a small voice, “I don’t guess we’ll be getting a basket from the church this year.”

My daddy didn’t miss a beat! He pointed his finger at us, and he said, with his thick Kentucky accent, “Now you listen here!” He continued, “Getting stuff ain’t what Christmas is all about! It’s about Jesus Christ being borned in a manger. He was in Heaven with God the Father, and He came to earth as a baby, and walked and talked and preached. Then He died on a cross so we could have a way into Heaven. I don’t ever want you kids to forget that! We got a lot to be thanful fer! Why, we’ve got this warm house. Our belly’s full. We’ve sung and played games and had a good time. Why you’ ins ort to be ashamed for wantin’ more!”

Silence filled the room for awhile, and I think we all were just about to cry. Then we heard it…in the distance at first…and then getting closer. “Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn King! Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled…” WHAT? We ran to the window, and lo and behold, there came two men from the Binghamtown Baptist Church, each carrying a box filled with food and toys. Daddy opened the door for them. “Come in! Come in! You’ll freeze to death out there! How in the world did you get here? This weather’s bad, and the roads are a mess!” They just grinned. “We got as far as the creek,” they said, “so then we just walked the rest of the way.”

They stayed for awhile and warmed by the fire. Mommy fixed them a cup of coffee and sliced them a piece of coconut cake. We sang some songs for them, and they went back outside in the cold toward their car. We could hear them singing as they went down the road. “Joy to the world! The Lord is come…”

I have never forgotten that selfless act of generosity, or the lesson my dad made sure to instill within us. I will forever proclaim the true meaning of Christmas, and will continue to pass along the spirit of giving. Never underestimate an act of kindness. Remember…it’s not about the giving, but about the loving.

But, what we didn’t understand then, was that they showed their LOVING, by the act of GIVING.

1 John 3:18, (NIV), tells us, “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech, but with actions and in truth.” 

Is there someone that you can show some love today?

(This is an excerpt from the book, “Holler, Heaven, and Home, a Journey of Faith).