A Christmas Story

Many years ago, a dad, a mom and a daughter prepared for their annual night at the Ballet.  Each year, the weekend before Christmas, the family would dress up in dressy Christmas outfits, have dinner at a fancy restaurant  and travel to the theater to watch the magic of "The Nutcracker Ballet" unfold before them.   This Saturday night was cold, it had been raining and sleeting all day.  There was even discussion about canceling, but everyone was excited and looking forward to the night out.  Reservations had been made and tickets had been purchased, the decision was made to go on as planned.

The restaurant was downtown in a historic hotel.  The dad drove the car up to the door of the hotel.    The car doors were opened and the family emerged leaving the car to be parked by someone else.  The doors to the hotel were opened and the three were welcomed with smiles, into the warmth,  never having to feel the biting cold of the winter wind.

The dinner was wonderful.   Each course came out on schedule, more delicious than the last.  The food was everything one would desire on a night of pre-Christmas celebration.  The family lingered over dessert enjoying their fancy evening out, talking about past years and what made each special.

With curtain time approaching and needing to make one small stop before continuing on to the theater,  it was time to call for the car.  Once again the family moved from one place of warmth to the next.

On the way to the theater the family pulled into the post office to mail a few last minute cards and letters and some bills needing to be posted on time.  The Dad turned the car into the circular driveway where the letter drop boxes stood.  Next to the last box stood an old man dressed in a way that you knew immediately he lived on the streets.  His pants were baggy and soiled.  His thin jacket was too big for his thin body.  He wore no hat nor gloves.  He wobbled a bit and spoke into each car as it stopped and moved forward.  As the family approached the line of mail boxes, the Dad handed the Mom the envelopes to be deposited and said, "He's drunk, just don't make eye contact".

The Mom rolled down her window and placed the mail into the mouth of the waiting boxes.  Just as she rolled up the car window the shivering man said, "Merry Christmas".

As the Dad pulled through the drive and stopped to merge into traffic, he looked at the Mom and asked, "Did you hear him".  "Yes, I did", she replied.

"What do you think"?

"Well, when you have done unto the least of mine, you have done also unto me" was the Mom's reply.

Without another spoken word the Dad pulled across four lanes of traffic making a u-turn and drove back into the post office driveway.  All of this took less than three minutes.

When they arrived back at the mail boxes, the man was no longer there.  The family drove down surrounding streets and alleyways.  They searched doorways and places one might be shielded from the night's wind, until they finally realized they were not going to find him.  A chance to help someone without judging had vanished.  Eye contact had not been made.  Opportunity had knocked unanswered....

 A lesson was learned on that cold winter's night, a week before Christmas, many, many years ago.

We often talk about that night over twenty years ago.  It is an experience that will remain the rest of our lives.

Merry Christmas!