A Blessing to Treasure by Eunice Matchett

I love Christmas. The carols, the music, the decorations, the presents, but most of all, Christ’s love that draws us all together at this time of the year. People who are too busy all year find a moment to enjoy a coffee with a neighbor, or take a plate of cookies to the senior down the street.

I also find myself reflecting on my Christmas pasts. Kinda like Ebenezer, but I like to muse on the blessings, and this being my sixty-ninth Christmas, I’ve experienced many wonderful moments. But there is always one that floats to the top of my muse list every year.

It was a snowy Christmas eve on base at CFB Winnipeg. My husband, who was a member of the Mobile Engineers unit, had been away most of the year and just returned home. Since our children were thirteen and nine, our home exploded with excitement.  The phone rang often because I was manning the It’s a New Day counselling line.

Some time in early evening a perplexing call came. The man’s voice on the other end of my phone sounded tired and defeated. He’d just returned to Winnipeg with his family and they had no groceries. He informed my he’d already checked with all available government agencies as well as the food bank and everything was closed. After praying with him, I asked for his phone number and address.

I rejoined my family in the living room, and for a few seconds watched them sprawl over the floor in a game of twister. “Guys,” I said trying to keep the tears out of my voice. “There’s a family downtown who have nothing to eat.”

The game died, and five sets of eyes looked up at me. Our youngest son jumped to his feet. “They can have that turkey I won at the Cadet’s turkey shoot.”

One of the girls dashed upstairs. “I haven’t opened my candy bag from the church concert yet!”

Within minutes, our four children had not only gathered enough food from our pantry for a Christmas feast, they had pooled their candy, nuts, and new toys from the concerts they’d attended, to give to a family who had no hope for a blessed Christmas.

We never heard from the family again, but I was rewarded with seeing the compassion on my children’s faces as they reached into their own to share with others. As their mother, I am blessed and still shed a tear all these years later as this wee memory crawls to the front of my Christmas pasts.