Lessons Of Life

The Gift of Forgiveness - Christmas Story

The Christmas of 1949 we didn't have a tree. My dad had as much pride as anybody, I suppose, so he wouldn't just say that we couldn't afford one.

When I mentioned it, my mother said that we weren't going to have one this year, that we couldn't afford one, and even if we could – it was stupid to clutter up your house with a dead tree.

I wanted a tree badly though, and I thought – in my naive way – that if we had one, everybody would feel better.

About three days before Christmas, I was out collecting for my paper route. It was fairly late – long after dark – it was snowing and very cold.

I went to the apartment building to try to catch a customer who hadn't paid me for nearly two months – she owed me seven dollars.

Much to my surprise, she was home. She invited me in and not only did she pay me, she gave me a dollar tip! It was a windfall for me – I now had eight whole dollars.

What happened next was totally unplanned. On the way home, I walked past a Christmas tree lot and the idea hit me.

The selection wasn't very good because it was so close to the holiday, but there was this one real nice tree. It had been a very expensive tree and no one had bought it; now it was so close to Christmas that the man was afraid no one would.

He wanted ten dollars for it, but when I – in my gullible innocence – told him I only had eight, he said he might sell it for that.

I really didn't want to spend the whole eight dollars on the tree, but it was so pretty that I finally agreed.

I dragged it all the way home – about a mile, I think – and I tried hard not to damage it or break off any limbs.

The snow helped to cushion it, and it was still in pretty good shape when I got home.

You can't imagine how proud and excited I was. I propped it up against the railing on our front porch and went in.

My heart was bursting as I announced that I had a surprise.

I got Mom and Dad to come to the front door and then I switched on the porch light.

"Where did you get that tree?" my mother exclaimed.

But it wasn't the kind of exclamation that indicates pleasure.

"I bought it up on Main Street. Isn't it just the most perfect tree you ever saw?" I said, trying to maintain my enthusiasm.

"Where did you get the money?" Her tone was accusing and it began to dawn on me that this wasn't going to turn out as I had planned.

"From my paper route." I explained about the customer who had paid me.

"And you spent the whole eight dollars on this tree?" she exclaimed.

She went into a tirade about how stupid it was to spend my money on a dumb tree that would be thrown out and burned in a few days.

She told me how irresponsible I was and how I was just like my dad with all those foolish, romantic, noble notions about fairy tales and happy endings and that it was about time I grew up and learned some sense about the realities of life and how to take care of money and spend it on things that were needed and not on silly things.

She said that I was going to end up in the poorhouse because I believe in stupid things like Christmas trees, things that didn't amount to anything.

I just stood there. My mother had never talked to me like that before and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I felt awful and I began to cry. Finally, she reached out and snapped off the porch light.