During
our first holidays together as a married couple in 1973, my husband
received a forty-dollar Christmas bonus. Though we didn’t have much
money for gifts, we decided to spend the bonus on a family
who had recently lost their husband and father. We had so much fun
shopping for presents, wrapping them, and then leaving them in the dark
on the family’s front doorstep that we made the secret project a family
tradition.
Over
the years we were blessed with four children. As soon as each child
became tall enough, he or she would take a turn at Christmastime wearing
a special coat that we used only once a year. Adult-sized, dark in
color, and hooded, the coat made a perfect disguise for sneaking up to
someone’s doorstep to leave gifts.
Every
autumn we would vote on who our secret family would be that Christmas
and on what gifts we would make or purchase for them. After some
negotiation, the children would agree on who would have the honor of
wearing the Christmas coat and delivering the presents that year. On
abundant years we would give homemade quilts or clothing along with
toys, books, and goodies, and on leaner years we would give stockings
filled with smaller items.
When
Christmas Eve finally arrived, the lucky child would don that beloved
coat, cinch the hood tight around his or her face, and put on gloves and
large boots to complete the disguise. With everyone in the car, we’d
park a short distance away from the chosen house, and our little elf
would make his or her way to the front porch. The fear of being seen or
suspected made it even more exciting!
Back
in our cozy home we would sit together with hot cocoa and bread sticks
and relive the evening’s adventure. With full tummies and warm hearts,
we would read the Christmas story from the Bible
and appreciate what the Savior’s life taught us about service.
Christmases were always wonderful, and we never missed a year of our
tradition. Whenever I saw the Christmas coat hanging in the closet
during the year, I would think of what it represented to us: the fun of a
well-kept family secret and the joy of loving and sharing.
During
the spring of our twentieth year together, my husband lost his job and
was out of work for five months. Even though he had a new job by
Christmastime, our financial situation was grim. We didn’t expect to
have much of a Christmas for our own family, so we wondered how we would
carry out our secret tradition.
We talked during family home evening about what our Christmas would be like that year. We recognized with gratitude
that even if gifts would be scarce, at least we still had warmth, food,
and each other. We thought of all the people who had essentially
nothing: no home, no family, no warmth. Then we thought about how for
years short little legs had run inside our Christmas coat and bright
eyes had peered out from its furry hood. How would we put the coat to
use this year?
One
Sunday morning we loaded everyone into the car and drove downtown with
our Christmas coat—only this time none of the children was wearing it.
We drove to an area where homeless people often spent the night, and we
watched for someone who didn’t have anything warm to wear in the
freezing winter air. When we spotted a man walking alone, my husband and
son walked over to him. The rest of us watched as the man accepted the
coat and smiled. Tears filled my eyes and I saw him put on our Christmas
coat, the only gift we had to give that year.
Other
Christmases have since passed, and we have been able to continue our
tradition. None of us has forgotten about the Christmas coat, however.
When I consider all the years the coat disguised us while we delivered
gifts, the memory of the year we gave it away warms my heart the most.
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