The Tree of Christmas Hope Part 1

Christmas; the time of year for families and gatherings, well wishes, celebrations, and good cheer. I didn’t know it but my life was about to change. Everything I had worked to so hard to achieve was about to morph into a year of struggle, sorrow, and yes, amazement. Here I was in midlife, my kids were grown, I had grandchildren. I was well established. I had been in my home for fifteen years, and I had been at my job for better than six.

In early December just before Christmas, my husband Dave moved out. It was a second marriage for both us, and we had been married less than two years. His whole demeanor changed shortly after we got married. His leaving didn’t come as any big surprise, but that didn’t lessen the hurt any. Christmas was right around the corner, and I wasn’t in the mood for celebrating anything. I didn’t even decorate or put up a tree. Things looked pretty bleak.

January followed with more unsettling news. The company I worked for cut our wages back. I lost nearly two dollars an hour in pay. Down to one income again, and a loss in wages started taking its toll on my finances. Before too long the bills totaled more than I was making.

I could see the financial train wreck coming. I spent every free dime getting the house ready to put on the market. I knew I needed to sell it or I’d lose it, and it needed a lot of repairs. I had very little money to work with, but I made every dime squeak and squawk until I had made all the reasonable improvements I could.

That spring was the hardest I can recall. My hours at work had been cut back and my house payment had gone up by nearly two hundred dollars. The bank called every month looking for the mortgage payment. Making it on time had become impossible. It took three weeks pay to gather enough money to send. My situation was becoming unbearable. Many nights I cried myself to sleep from the anguish of not having enough money to get by. My pride had been squashed, stomped on, and tossed completely out the door. As long as I can remember, I was the one to help others. Here I was in middle of my life, more broke and humbled than I had been since my kids were little. That was nearly twenty years ago.

I needed to look for a second job but there just weren't enough hours in the day. I stayed focused on the house. The weeks went by quickly, working days at the factory, and every evening on the yard and house. My youngest son Zach, who was 23 at the time, came home for a month long visit. Zach and his friends came together and took out the over-grown hedges and replanted new shrubs. They helped me scrape and paint the entire upper story of the house. I had enough money to cover the paint, but I had to borrow the money for the scaffolding that I rented, so we could paint the peak of the house.

My daughter helped when and where she could. One hot Saturday afternoon she brought groceries over to feed the guys who were helping me paint the house. She brought more food than all of us could eat in three days. It always sent tears down my face for the gratefulness of her grace.

In early July my parents came to help on the house. In the three weeks that they were there, my dad made a lot of necessary repairs. For the past forty plus years he had made his living remodeling homes, so getting his free professional help was more than a blessing.

In the midst of it all, my 22 year old nephew Jack called to see if he could stay with me, for a couple of weeks, he had said. He was trying to get his life straightened out as well as get enrolled in a trade school. I didn’t have the extra to support myself let alone another, but I couldn’t turn him down. If all Jack needed was a second chance in life, far be it from me to deny that of anyone.

At the time Jack wasn’t working, but he did a good job around the house trying to earn his keep. He would do up the dishes, he vacuumed, and he even cleaned out the garage. He helped us paint the house, and weeded the sorriest looking garden I have ever grown. Jack picked up a lot of loose ends for me and never complained.

Those two weeks turned into three months, when Jack landed a good job with a local business. It wasn't long after that, he moved out of my house and on his own again. When he left, we both knew he was a stronger person then the one that arrived.

Last, but certainly not least, was Pike. She was the kind of person that came to the rescue of those who needed a helping hand. I came to know her a couple of years ago when she dated my son Zach. Pike would come over nearly every afternoon to help me paint or clean. We cleaned sixteen years of accumulated junk out of the basement and loaded everything into the back of her truck. It was hard work but we got it done. To this day we still laugh about that huge pile of junk weighing down her pickup.

After we got the basement cleaned out Pike helped me paint the basement floor and walls. I can still picture her bare foot prints trailing across the floor when she stepped in some spilled paint. It gave me another reason to laugh, at a time when all I wanted to do was cry. Like many of the little mishaps, we just painted over them. The Basement looked beautiful when we finished. Pike and I grew really close that summer working on the house. I will always be grateful for her friendship and her labor of love.

The year was moving into fall and I just couldn’t believe all the selfless acts of kindness by everyone that helped me that summer. By the end of it, the place looked great inside and out. It was definitely ready for the market.

Shortly before Thanksgiving my oldest son Michael called. He asked me to take his eight year old daughter in for a while. She was having some problems at home, and he knew I could help her out. The day after Thanksgiving my granddaughter Samantha came to live with me. Here I was again with another mouth to feed. At 8 years old, Samantha was hardly employable, but none the less, she needed me, and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t need her too.

My evenings and weekends were empty and lonely before Samantha came. The funny thing is; during that summer I had more people around than I knew what to do with. After they were all gone, the emptiness echoed in the walls. I welcomed my new little roommate with open arms.

The days began to pass quickly with a new routine. On the way to work I would drop Samantha off at my daughter’s, where she could catch the bus to school. The thought of getting that second job was once again next to impossible. The cost of daycare would out weigh the benefits of a second job. The idea that I would not get to spend any time with Samantha except to tuck her in bed at night just did not seem like the right thing to do for her.

The house hadn’t been sold yet and things were getting grimmer by the month. I held onto my faith, I knew by the grace of God, we would get by somehow. The thought of Christmas approaching and absolutely no money was more than I dared to think about. If it were just me, it would have been alright. With Samantha there, well the thought just sent tears down my face.

One evening we received a visit from a dear friend who brought Lasagna and garlic toast for supper. Tom didn’t stay long, but Samantha and I were fed, and it was always good to share in Tom’s company. He rarely stayed more than a half an hour, but we all enjoyed the time. Samantha liked Tom and she held his attention over the course of the meal with question after question. Tom delighted in the joy of it all, and gave back to her as much as she dished out.

Shortly after Tom left that evening, my dog Max began barking at something in the back yard. He didn’t approach what ever it was, he just stood his ground. Max's usual course of action was to chase down or chase off what ever it was that didn't belong in his yard. Usually it was a squirrel on our deck, or the neighbor’s cat walking up the alley. This time he just stood in the middle of the yard barking fiercely at something in the dark.

The hair stood up on my arms as my mind tried to wander into the abyss of imagination. I wondered what could possibly be upsetting my dog. Before I let things go too far, I turned the yard light on and cautiously went outside to see what it was.

In the dark corner of the yard I could make out something leaning up against the fence. As I got closer I could see it was a tree, a Christmas tree! What a relief it was, and yet the questions rapidly started running through my mind. Who left it here and why? It was only three weeks till Christmas, so the timing wasn’t out of line. I thought to myself, of course …Tom left it here for Samantha.

Finding the tree in the back yard brought mixed feelings of dismay and wonder, which quickly turned into joy, as Samantha and I dragged the tree into the house. It delighted both of us that someone cared enough to bring us a tree. That very thought stuck in my throat like a large chunk of apple and soon the tears welled in my eyes. I tried to hide the tears from Samantha. I didn’t want her to wonder why such a simple thing as a tree could mean so much to me.