The Gift on Christmas Day

Christmas Eve had arrived and brought with it, the clouds of worry about my Dad's deteriorating condition. He had developed a dangerous heart rhythm and was on a telemetry unit in a hospital one hour away.
He had always been a strong man, but several strokes had attacked his weakening body and mind. He had become a fragile 75 yr old man with little dignity. Yet, I was not ready to say good-bye to him. I couldn't let him go. Not yet and especially not today.
My heart was heavy and my temples were throbbing from the constant effort to conceal the tears that were always threatening to spill. Christmas was a special time, especially for small children and my two sons were no exception. I knew the strain of PopPop being so sick, but they were too young to understand. I had to keep the holiday as usual. My Dad would have wanted it that way. Christmas would go on, even without him.
Unwilling to face the restless night, that I knew awaited me, I forced myself to try to unwind. I found myself staring blankly at the shimmering, soft, glow from the lights of the Christmas tree. But something was missing. There was no gift for Dad under the tree. It was a sad reminder that maybe he wouldn't be in need of a gift this year.
Memories of Christmas past began to flood my mind which seemed to give me some settling peace. Traditions were carried out year after year by my Dad, who believed in a force not seen and who showed no interest in material things. Yet he had worked six days a week to make sure his family had the joy and magic of Christmas.
As a small child, Christmas Eve night was a time of excitement and anticipation. There was little money to spare, yet my brothers and I were never disappointed on Christmas morning.
We were taught as young children to treat our toys as precious gems, since the toys were indeed rare, but Santa never forgot us year after year.
I vividly recall the Christmas of 1958, when Santa left a Shirley Temple doll under the tree for me. I still have her. Her blue silk dress has never left her body and her head of curls still surround her brilliant blue eyes. She is listed today as less than mint, since she is missing a shoe, but to me, she is priceless. This doll is a reminder of Christmas past, when money didn't really matter and when families had time for each other.
With each passing Christmas, traditions in our home never varied. Dad waited until Christmas Eve night to bring in the spectacular cedar tree. With just a few lights, several glass ornaments,and a zillion strings of icicles, our whole family got together and managed to turn the cedar tree into a brilliant Christmas tree. The tree was not complete without the icicles. The icicles and the lights hid all the imperfections. It was a night of all nights, the best night of the year, a night of magic. The sweet memories made me smile.
And today, another Christmas Eve, I was no longer a child and all I could think about was Christmas past. I thought of the candlelight service at St. Paul's church in Wenona, where I was raised. This service was a reminder to everyone that Jesus was the reason for the season. I could almost smell the wax candles burning as we all joined in singing Silent Night.
My brothers and I are all married now, with families and have moved away from Wenona. But the traditions live on. Being physically apart on this special night each year, we are still connected in spirit, in different cities and in different churches for the Candlelight services. Our father's prayer was that the circle not be broken.
We remind our children each year, that Christmas is about love, not wrapped gifts under a trimmed tree. It's about family, not toys. It's about a loving God who sent the special gift of his son, who is our only source of strength. We tell our children about their grandfather who was not ashamed of his God and that he prayed on his knees with his children and even cried at times. His gift to his children and grandchildren was his strong belief in a God we could not see and a place we could only imagine.
I was lost in my thoughts, listening to the crackling of wood in the fireplace and I drifted into a restful sleep that night. As morning dawned, I awoke with a new peace, since the hospital did not call. No news was good news.
My Dad was fighting a good fight and I had been selfishly praying that he would hang on, just one more Christmas and he had. He was alone in a hospital bed with strangers, oblivious to the holiday. He had no gift and no tree. He could not walk and he could not see. What difference did Christmas make to him? It was just another day to a man who was prisoner in his own mind.
On Christmas morning, I watched my two boys rip open their gifts in their usual high speed fashion, but my mind kept drifting back to Dad, who had no gifts. He had grown up in a poor family with five other siblings. He became a man who had no use for material things. He learned to be content with what he had.
And yet, I was still sad that he had no gifts under the tree, just a little gift, maybe something that he could hold on his lap. But there was no gift at all. I found myself fretting that he was all alone and prayed that someone would feed him breakfast that morning. In his present state, food meant more to him than anything else, more than gifts, more than decorating a Christmas tree.
For Dad, this day was no different from Christmas past when he learned to be thankful that there was food on the table.
I didn't have a gift for my Dad that day, no wrapped present, but I suddenly knew that Christmas morning what I could give him. I made him a promise to never again pray selfishly for him to hang on for me. I gave him permission to go to his final resting place when he was ready. That same place he taught his children about, where he could go and wait for his family.

Dad is celebrating with Jesus today. I believe his eyes are clear and he can see us gathering together in a little huddle surrounding the Christmas tree. I believe he is singing with the angels and his words are no longer garbled. I believe his legs are strong and that he is dancing around a beautiful tree as he helps decorate it with icicles. I believe he can feel the love that encircles each family. I believe he knows about my gift to him years ago. My promise to let him go!!!