Every year, my parents would tell us ten kids,

“No Christmas presents this year.”

And we believed them. Every year. They were so convincing each time. They said Christmas wasn’t about presents, but about Jesus. And we were encouraged to sacrifice the idea of gifts for the idea of celebrating Jesus. We did. Our awareness for others was heightened. I remember getting along better with my siblings at Christmas as we showed each other extra grace and love. We were always very close, but there was something about preparing for Jesus’ birthday that made us bond more. We were probably on our best behavior.

My dad was a bartender for thirty one years at the Stardust Hotel, that used to feature the Rat Pack. One time, a famous comedian sat at my dad’s bar for hours and then gave my parents tickets to his show that night. The comedian used all of my dad’s jokes. My dad laughed at this. He had THE best laugh! My dad was hilarious! He’d read the morning paper and flip the headlines into something super funny. He could have written for Johnny Carson. Everyone loved my dad. He had customers that would plan their vacations just to sit at his bar and bask in his loving, funny self. One year, I needed shoes. Not just any shoes, but Buster Browns for my wide feet. My big toe is very short and bulges out. My parents prayed for the money to afford them. A tall black man wearing a white suit came up to the bar and ordered a beer. He gave my dad a hundred dollar bill and told him to keep the change. It was an answer to prayer. My dad thinks he was an angel because he never drank the beer. My dad put a napkin over top and saved it for him, but he never returned. God provides.

I’d wake up on Christmas morning before the sun came up, and lay on the couch looking at the tree while I waited for my siblings to wake up. My dad had meticulously strung icicles on practically every pine needle to make the most sparkly tree I’ve ever seen! He was very particular about how we put the icicles on, when he let us help him. It wasn’t to be clumped on in haphazard piles. Every icicle had its own needle to adorn. His trees were magnificent. As the sun would come up, slivers of light would make the icicles dance and shimmer. It wasn’t until the sun came up and through our big bay Windows did I see the mountains of presents for each of us! Each tag read,

“Love, Jesus”

Our parents took no credit, pointing us always to Jesus. The real gift of the season! We would always have a birthday cake for Jesus and sing him, “Happy Birthday”

He can reach into the scars of your heart and heal them one by one. He’s closer than the air you breathe, He is your beating heart. May you feel wrapped in His loving arms this season and always.

Love,

Tisa