The Christmas Lesson

I sat on the edge of my seat. I was so excited! Surely this was an answer to prayer. 

I was in the middle of a game of Dirty Santa and had just watched my brother-in-law, Paul, open the newly-released video of the movie, Toy Story.

Immediately after that my nephew, Troy, opened a heated hunting stool.

How amazing is that? I thought. I need both of them. 

A month before, my seven year old son had listed the movie as one of the items on his Christmas wish list.

Just two days before, at our local discount store, Larry had pointed out the exact same stool.  Designed for use in a duck blind or deer stand, he had opened it, sat in it and commented, “I’d like one of these sometime. I could use it when I’m hunting.”

I couldn’t believe it. Both of the things I needed were in the game.

Dirty Santa, a family tradition at every Henry Christmas, is played with each person drawing a number and, in that order, either choosing a gift from a pile in the center of the floor, or stealing someone’s already-opened item. A gift would be frozen or unable to be stolen once it got to the third person.

I eyeballed the rest of the group. What strategy should I use to get what I needed?  “You get the stool, I’ll get the Toy Story.” I whispered to Larry. I was hoping that someone with a number in between ours would steal them first so that when Larry and I nabbed them they would be frozen.

“No cheating,” Lynne, my sister-in-law yelled over the noise of all the talking. “I saw you two whispering…you can’t do that.”

I rolled my eyes at her and continued to strategize with Larry.

We had struggled that year to even purchase our gifts for the family party. In fact, my mom had purchased one of them for us because she knew our money was so tight.

It was toward the end of our “great depression”, that time in our life when both of us were clinically depressed and unable to work.  We had been on and off food stamps for two years, sick, miserable, and once again unable to buy presents as we had in the past.

Our son had asked Santa for a baseball glove. (He actually wasn’t sure he believed in Santa anymore. But he’d said, “There must be a Santa because my family is too poor to buy what Santa brings me.”) I knew that gift was being taken care of.

Sadly, all the other items would have to wait. We simply had no money. Larry and I weren’t buying gifts for each other and had barely scraped up enough to buy a gift for my parents and his mom. After that, nothing else could be purchased.

When my turn came, I grabbed the Toy Story video. Sadly, I was only the second person to take it. Someone could still steal it from me. I tried to hide it under my chair.

“Maybe you should take it from me and not get the stool, that way it will freeze.” I whispered to Larry, hoping that no one would notice.

Before he had the chance, my sister-in-law, Patty, who had just had her gift stolen, walked over and asked, “Claudine, what did you open? Are you hiding something?

I sheepishly lifted the video from behind the chair leg.  She grabbed it from my hand. “Thank you, I’ll take that from you,” she said triumphantly, marching back to her seat.

Blinking back tears, I sat frozen, trying not to show my panic. I was so disappointed.

“Claudine, you have to go get something else.” Larry leaned over and whispered. He knew I was trying to compose myself.

It’s okay Claudine, just breathe. Get the stool. Go get the stool, and then at least you can give it to Larry and he will have something he wants.

I stood and walked over to where Troy sat. “I’m stealing this one.” I said, grabbing it from his lap. I hurried back to my seat and tucked it behind my coat on the floor.

Larry’s turn was two numbers away. If I could hang on, he could steal it from me and freeze it.

No such luck. My brother-in-law, Dewayne, walked over, bent down and lifted my coat. “I’ll take that,” he said with a grin.

I tried not to look defeated. I tried not to let my sorrow show, but I was about to burst into tears in the middle of Dirty Santa.

It was just a game; technically, I knew that…but I couldn’t hold back my disappointment.

I don’t remember what gift I ended up with. I’m sure it was nice. I’m not even sure how I finished the game. All I knew was my plan to get the two people I loved most a gift had failed.

As soon as the game was over, I ran to the bathroom and burst into tears. I didn’t want anyone to know I was crying.

Soon my tears turned to sobs that I couldn’t control…heart-wrenching…gut-twisting sobs. I felt like my insides were coming out.

Petrified that the family would hear my cries, I ran from the bathroom, passed through the living area and escaped through the back door into the cold.

I ran to the side of the house. I didn’t want anyone looking outside to see where I was.

There, with no coat, I plopped cross-legged on the hard cold ground, leaned my back against the brick of the house and I let my emotions run out.

“God, where are you?” I railed. “Why am I so upset over a Dirty Santa game? I feel stupid. I know it’s just stuff. I know we don’t really need it. But it’s Christmas. Why does this hurt so bad?”

Eventually, the tears did stop, but my questions didn’t. “Is this ever going to end? Are we ever going to be normal again? What are we not doing to get us out of this mess?”

I was angry, more mad at myself than anyone. I felt only marginally better for my prayer time. “Really, God…is this the best life you have for us?”

My back still pressed against the brick, I realized that I was sitting under the kitchen window.  I hadn’t meant to be there. It was just where I stopped. I could hear the family above me, talking, laughing, clanking pans and preparing food.

I heard Patty ask, “Where is Claudine?”

Someone answered, “I don’t know. I think she was upset.”

I shrank a bit lower down the wall. I was mortified.

It showed. They know I cried. How am I going to go back in there? 

I sat for a long time. My mind was spinning, my body shaking with cold by then. Too embarrassed to go inside, I was worried that when they looked at me the tears would flow again.

Larry finally came looking for me. “Are you okay? Everyone is missing you. Don’t be upset over the game.”

“I’ll be in in a minute. Just leave me alone,” I said, more abruptly than I meant to.

He shrugged and walked away. I realized then that I had embarrassed him, too.

I sighed, “God, I can’t change what has happened, but you have shown me that I can change how I think about it. Help me reframe my hurt into something useful. Please…I don’t want to embarrass anyone. Don’t let them think I’m a big baby because I cried.”

I’d love to tell you that I had a spiritual breakthrough that night, that peace flooded over me and I was suddenly calm and collected.

But it didn’t happen that way.

I walked in the back door, embarrassed, but thankful when no one said a thing. They just welcomed me back into the circle, helped me fix a plate of food, and acted like nothing had happened. After I ate, we sat at the table and played a round of “Oh Heck” (the family’s favorite card game).

The next morning, Patty showed up at our house with a newly-purchased video of Toy Story. “I didn’t mean to take something away from you,” she told me. “I didn’t know Logan wanted it.”

Once again, I found myself embarrassed. She was being sweet. I still felt like a big crybaby.

I assured her I was fine and thanked her for the gift. It somehow made it easier to accept her charity when it was for my son instead of myself.

That was nearly twenty years ago and I laugh when I tell that story now. But it took a while. I can recognize that the game was a trigger that unleashed the grief and uncertainty I was already feeling. I literally had a “come-apart” and couldn’t stop it from happening. (I’ve had a few come-aparts in the years since then as well.)

Almost every Christmas, I remember that story…the sense of failure I had at not being able to buy gifts like the rest of the world…the embarrassment I felt sitting on that cold hard ground.

I know now that what I consider one of my most embarrassing moments ended up being a good thing…

…It made me more aware of others’ needs.

…It softened my heart toward those who are struggling.

…It taught me what it means to be humbled.

I’m a different person because of those depression years, and that night especially.

I still can’t believe that I cried so hard over a Dirty Santa game.  But I wouldn’t change the lesson for anything.

Who do you know that could use a helping hand this Christmas? Is there someone who needs help with buying presents? Is their a family who would benefit from an anonymous food basket? Look around, there are people close to you who need what you can offer.