My best Christmas present ever

Each morning in winter, Mother left the house in the dark and came home by dark, taking the hour-long bus ride to the furriers in Vancouver, where she had a job sewing black satin linings into luxurious fur coats.

The pain from Father’s rheumatoid arthritis ended his construction career and put him permanently on the couch, from which he directed meal making, household duties and our activities. We three children ranged in age from five to nine, and had to learn to be responsible.

Life went on; we had “enough,” and we siblings enjoyed each other’s company. Often, I kept my father company by playing with my little doll on the coffee table near the couch.

Christmas was coming closer. Our excitement grew as we memorized our Christmas verses at the little church where Mother took us each Sunday.

One day, Mother came home from work with a special glow. “The firemen are fixing used toys to put into food hampers for the poor,” she said. “What do each of you want to contribute?”

My little heart warmed to the idea, so I gave Mother my doll “for the poor.” Almost immediately I regretted it, for our toy supply was slim, and I loved that doll. Only the hope that I would brighten some little girl’s Christmas helped me to overcome my feelings of loss.

On Christmas Eve, Mother was able to come home from work a bit earlier, and was busily trying to make the house look festive. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

Two tall men stood on the porch. They handed my mother a hamper. Excitedly, we gathered around, admiring cans of peas and soup and the paper wrappers of store bought cookies. Then we noticed toys in the box, and eagerly dismantled it.

There on the bottom lay my doll, the one I had missed so much! Speechless, I seized it and ran to show it to my dad.

My Christmas was complete. I watched the others walk out the door to the church program as I curled up next to my father beside the cardboard nativity scene on the coffee table, clutching the doll, my best Christmas present ever.

Helen Rose Pauls attends Sardis (B.C.) Community Church.