On the Second Day of Christmas
- JanaLee Cox Longhurst
- Dec 15, 2019
- 2 min read
On the second day of Christmas, a Christmas memory gave to me, two one-dollar bills.
My parents had many Christmas traditions. One of the quirkier ones was this: We threw whoever had come home to visit us into the back of Dad’s pickup truck and we went caroling, to only one house.
The family lived up a country lane, all alone. My brothers pointed out that it was a merciful choice to subject only that one family on that one lane to our singing. We were not what anyone would term a “musical” family, but that didn’t stop my mother. We ceremoniously sang not more than two carols before bestowing the family a plate of goodies, a box of what Mom called fixings, and a Christmas turkey.
The family up the lane were grateful recipients and it filled us with Christmas Spirit to be of help. Personally, I thought they deserved a turkey simply for listening so politely to our subpar singing.
Every year this happened. The same little family. The same subpar singing. The same basket of goodies and turkey.
And then I got married. And this little family came to our reception and handed me a card. Tucked inside were two one-dollar bills.
Tears sprung from my eyes because suddenly those Christmas nights came back of the tiny weather-beaten home down the lane and a downtrodden family who stood in its doorway as we fumbled through our amateur presentation.
I knew that those two dollar bills were a gift of great value, a sacrifice given from the heart.
I looked over at my mother, who watched me from her place in the reception line with tears in her eyes. She had freely given to this family, and they had freely given to me. It was there, in the middle of the summer, in the middle of a gymnasium decorated for a wedding reception, that I was filled with Christmas Spirit.
I think of those two dollars often. Of sacrifices made. I think how very blessed I am to have Christlike examples of giving and receiving, for therein lies the Spirit of Christmas.
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