First Christmas Adventure with Grandma!

(this is not a personal story, but one someone sent me via email, by an unknown, not named person)

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I
was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to
visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There
is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled
to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me.
I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the
truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with
one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they
were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between
bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No
Santa Claus?” she snorted…. “Ridiculous! Don’t believe it.
That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain
mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t
even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned
out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had
a little bit of just about everything.

As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.
That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said,
“and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you
in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s Store.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my
mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.
The store seemed big and crowded, full of people
scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just
stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill,
wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I
thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my
neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my
church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly
thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy
hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he
never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always
wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all
we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he just
didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with
growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a
red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm,
and he would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the
counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.” The nice lady
smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed
a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put
the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry
Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag
fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible)
in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby,
From Santa Claus” on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted
on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s
house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever
officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front
walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa
Claus,” she whispered, “get going.” I took a deep breath,
dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded
his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and
Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the
front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments
spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s
bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa
Claus were just what Grandma said they were, ridiculous. Santa
was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have Grandma’s Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: A
$19.95 price tag.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and
FRIENDS that care. And may you always believe in the magic of
Christmas! God gave His own son as the very first Christmas offering.
How can we do any less than give of our best!