As some of you know my childhood was not one to wish upon your worst enemy. I will not get into it much here as it has little to do with my story. Suffice to say that I never experienced Christmas as such and any gifts that were offered I would summarily refuse or only accept with the utmost reluctance, as they always had too much hidden implications or requirements. Six years ago I finally split with the mother of my two eldest children. Things had gone from good to mediocre to bad to worse to much much worse... Two Years later I met the mother of my youngest child and we set out to raise our family, as she wholly took my own children into her heart as readily as she took my own heart. The first Christmas was a dire one with the court battle in full swing over custody and property and such. Money was extremely tight and we had nary a decoration in the house to brighten the season. We had scrounged enough to assure each of the two children ample gifts, but had none left over for anything else. My ex-girlfriend had always celebrated Christmas with her family and never bothered at our home. There was always some serious drama there as half the family are devout Christians and the other half-raging alcoholics and drug addicts. The wars reminded me of the past I had left behind and I soon refused to participate in their delusions. My children had never had a Christmas in their own homes, and I had spent most of them alone, without even my family. My girlfriend of the time in question and I prayed fervently for some break in the ills we were enduring and they came two weeks before our first Christmas. We could hear the pitter-patter of children up much too early downstairs one winter morning, and without really waking perked an ear to listen for sounds of distress or trouble brewing. None came and we rested a few hours more, as it was truly too early even for mice and such. We awoke to the most impressive display of Christmas Spirit I have ever been witness to. My son and daughter had pasted pieces of paper together to an impressive height of near 6 feet and an equal width. On this paper they had drawn, painted, coloured and collaged the finest Christmas tree I have ever seen. It was decorated in the brightest colours and most impressive array of decorations one could imagine. They had wrapped in their innocent way piles of gifts (things from around the house mainly) and laid them under this faux tree, and were standing holding hands covered in the materials of their grand masterpiece when we came down the stairs. I wept for joy that day knowing for the first time what Christmas could be and should be.
I know I have posted this before but 'tis the season and I could use the warmth of its memory at a time when I am feeling more alone than ever.
Thank you for sharing this. If anyone is alone right now, not warmly welcomed into another's celebration, I hope this spirit of this story touches their heart long enough to get them through what may be a rough holiday season.
We all forget, there are always those worse off. Sometimes we lose them, sometimes they lose themselves... but we all still have each other.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story, Mark. It touched my heart immensely.
I am feeling very alone but for my friends here at CS. I could be out with people at a friend's house, but the gusts of wind here make it so I feel safer staying home. On the road with these gusts and drunken drivers combined doesn't sound safe at all. With no phone for two more days, I feel very isolated right now. No contact even with my family up in NH. So, right now, all of my family at CS is what I have for the holiday. And my dogs.
BarrenPneuma: As some of you know my childhood was not one to wish upon your worst enemy. I will not get into it much here as it has little to do with my story. Suffice to say that I never experienced Christmas as such and any gifts that were offered I would summarily refuse or only accept with the utmost reluctance, as they always had too much hidden implications or requirements. Six years ago I finally split with the mother of my two eldest children. Things had gone from good to mediocre to bad to worse to much much worse... Two Years later I met the mother of my youngest child and we set out to raise our family, as she wholly took my own children into her heart as readily as she took my own heart. The first Christmas was a dire one with the court battle in full swing over custody and property and such. Money was extremely tight and we had nary a decoration in the house to brighten the season. We had scrounged enough to assure each of the two children ample gifts, but had none left over for anything else. My ex-girlfriend had always celebrated Christmas with her family and never bothered at our home. There was always some serious drama there as half the family are devout Christians and the other half-raging alcoholics and drug addicts. The wars reminded me of the past I had left behind and I soon refused to participate in their delusions. My children had never had a Christmas in their own homes, and I had spent most of them alone, without even my family. My girlfriend of the time in question and I prayed fervently for some break in the ills we were enduring and they came two weeks before our first Christmas. We could hear the pitter-patter of children up much too early downstairs one winter morning, and without really waking perked an ear to listen for sounds of distress or trouble brewing. None came and we rested a few hours more, as it was truly too early even for mice and such. We awoke to the most impressive display of Christmas Spirit I have ever been witness to. My son and daughter had pasted pieces of paper together to an impressive height of near 6 feet and an equal width. On this paper they had drawn, painted, coloured and collaged the finest Christmas tree I have ever seen. It was decorated in the brightest colours and most impressive array of decorations one could imagine. They had wrapped in their innocent way piles of gifts (things from around the house mainly) and laid them under this faux tree, and were standing holding hands covered in the materials of their grand masterpiece when we came down the stairs. I wept for joy that day knowing for the first time what Christmas could be and should be. I know I have posted this before but 'tis the season and I could use the warmth of its memory at a time when I am feeling more alone than ever.
How beautiful it turned out to be. I wish you happiness and the happy dream. Thank you for sharing.
BarrenPneuma: As some of you know my childhood was not one to wish upon your worst enemy. I will not get into it much here as it has little to do with my story. Suffice to say that I never experienced Christmas as such and any gifts that were offered I would summarily refuse or only accept with the utmost reluctance, as they always had too much hidden implications or requirements. Six years ago I finally split with the mother of my two eldest children. Things had gone from good to mediocre to bad to worse to much much worse... Two Years later I met the mother of my youngest child and we set out to raise our family, as she wholly took my own children into her heart as readily as she took my own heart. The first Christmas was a dire one with the court battle in full swing over custody and property and such. Money was extremely tight and we had nary a decoration in the house to brighten the season. We had scrounged enough to assure each of the two children ample gifts, but had none left over for anything else. My ex-girlfriend had always celebrated Christmas with her family and never bothered at our home. There was always some serious drama there as half the family are devout Christians and the other half-raging alcoholics and drug addicts. The wars reminded me of the past I had left behind and I soon refused to participate in their delusions. My children had never had a Christmas in their own homes, and I had spent most of them alone, without even my family. My girlfriend of the time in question and I prayed fervently for some break in the ills we were enduring and they came two weeks before our first Christmas. We could hear the pitter-patter of children up much too early downstairs one winter morning, and without really waking perked an ear to listen for sounds of distress or trouble brewing. None came and we rested a few hours more, as it was truly too early even for mice and such. We awoke to the most impressive display of Christmas Spirit I have ever been witness to. My son and daughter had pasted pieces of paper together to an impressive height of near 6 feet and an equal width. On this paper they had drawn, painted, coloured and collaged the finest Christmas tree I have ever seen. It was decorated in the brightest colours and most impressive array of decorations one could imagine. They had wrapped in their innocent way piles of gifts (things from around the house mainly) and laid them under this faux tree, and were standing holding hands covered in the materials of their grand masterpiece when we came down the stairs. I wept for joy that day knowing for the first time what Christmas could be and should be. I know I have posted this before but 'tis the season and I could use the warmth of its memory at a time when I am feeling more alone than ever.
Oh, Mark. What a beautiful story. Children are so amazing. That is such an inspirational story for those of us who are going through hard times these days, as many are. It is a reminder that there is joy and love in the simplest of pleasures. Thank you, my friend.
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Six years ago I finally split with the mother of my two eldest children. Things had gone from good to mediocre to bad to worse to much much worse...
Two Years later I met the mother of my youngest child and we set out to raise our family, as she wholly took my own children into her heart as readily as she took my own heart. The first Christmas was a dire one with the court battle in full swing over custody and property and such. Money was extremely tight and we had nary a decoration in the house to brighten the season. We had scrounged enough to assure each of the two children ample gifts, but had none left over for anything else. My ex-girlfriend had always celebrated Christmas with her family and never bothered at our home. There was always some serious drama there as half the family are devout Christians and the other half-raging alcoholics and drug addicts. The wars reminded me of the past I had left behind and I soon refused to participate in their delusions. My children had never had a Christmas in their own homes, and I had spent most of them alone, without even my family.
My girlfriend of the time in question and I prayed fervently for some break in the ills we were enduring and they came two weeks before our first Christmas.
We could hear the pitter-patter of children up much too early downstairs one winter morning, and without really waking perked an ear to listen for sounds of distress or trouble brewing. None came and we rested a few hours more, as it was truly too early even for mice and such.
We awoke to the most impressive display of Christmas Spirit I have ever been witness to. My son and daughter had pasted pieces of paper together to an impressive height of near 6 feet and an equal width. On this paper they had drawn, painted, coloured and collaged the finest Christmas tree I have ever seen. It was decorated in the brightest colours and most impressive array of decorations one could imagine. They had wrapped in their innocent way piles of gifts (things from around the house mainly) and laid them under this faux tree, and were standing holding hands covered in the materials of their grand masterpiece when we came down the stairs. I wept for joy that day knowing for the first time what Christmas could be and should be.
I know I have posted this before but 'tis the season and I could use the warmth of its memory at a time when I am feeling more alone than ever.