Our plans of helping a family went to hell

If I’m being completely honest, I thought our plans of helping a family went to hell when our fancy flocked Christmas tree flew off our SUV and into holiday traffic on the highway today around lunchtime. One of my generous friends had delivered the tree and all the trimmings and because it was pouring today, we kept the plastic on, so the beautiful fake snow wouldn’t be washed away. But that plastic allowed that little bugger to squirm out of its cover and fly into oncoming traffic. We saw a car run over part of it and didn’t know for a full ten minutes while we exited and turned around if we had hurt or killed someone. My husband said he imagined our financial ruin from the impending lawsuits, and for me, the devil that resides in a part of my head reared up and snarked, ‘This is what happens when you try to help someone. See? No good deed goes unpunished.’ But we came upon the tree on the side of the highway in a perfectly safe spot for us to pull over. No one was injured and most shocking of all, the tree was perfectly intact, standing straight and proud as if to say, “Have faith little one, nothing can stop Christmas.” We refastened the tree to the roof of the car and met my FB friend and her family and this is where our story really begins:

Today at 2:30 we pulled up in a front a nondescript complex in a suburb, across from a Walmart in an area 40 miles outside Atlanta that could be Anywhere, U.S.A.. Having contemplated maiming or killing someone on our way to deliver Christmas, nerves were shot. We got out of the car and I hugged my FB friend who was now like a dear friend after two weeks of talking and strategizing and stressing and worrying and laughing and being shocked together. And then they were opening the door, three of the sweetest girls you’ve ever met, welcoming us – shy and excited. Behind them stood their mom, inviting us into their home. My FB friend told me the family had cried much of the day yesterday, I guess a mixture of anticipation, worry and excitement. Their mom had had to break the news a few weeks ago that there were no gifts for Christmas this year, and here we were, the Clampetts in front of their apartment.

Two weeks ago I asked you to help me bring Christmas to this family. They had not asked for help, this mom and three kids barely staying afloat. Mom’s factory job paid 12 bucks an hour with zero benefits. A FB friend whose daughter goes to school with the girls told me how upset she was to learn that this family had no Thanksgiving dinner because they couldn’t afford it. I asked if I could bring Christmas and told her to figure out how to ask them in a respectful way, because this mom always talked about their blessings, how they were lucky to have a roof over their head and food. My friend told the family she had entered them to win Christmas.

I wrote a post of what I knew of them and asked if you would help me. We immediately told the family they had won because we didn’t want them to suffer. I knew I would bring them Christmas myself if I had to, but I had a dream in my heart to do more than brighten a day. I dared to think that maybe we could brighten a life. I’ve told stories my whole life, from the time I was old enough to talk, to the time someone paid me to tell them on TV, and what I believe to the core of my being is that when we know each other’s stories, we are strangers no more. We become community.

You answered my post. 100 of you answered. With venmo and PayPal and cash and gift cards and clothing and handwritten letters.

ONE. HUNDRED.

I panicked. This was more than I dreamed. My logical brain kicked in, that I could help several families, but I had asked all of you to help THIS family, and you gave based on that. So then I did what I realized I should do more often, I started to dream and think big, of how we could help this family in a bold, loving, expansive, responsible way.

I consulted experts, friends, and random smart strangers, and eventually developed a plan. Today, we pulled up in front of their home, our SUV overflowing with packages, the miraculous resurrection tree perched atop it.

The girls were incredibly patient and polite, helping us carry everything in, dozens of packages. I saw them exchanging looks of shock and surprise. Each of them had given me a modest wish list of basic clothing only. What had arrived at their home was so much more. My husband dragged in the tree and set it up in the corner of their tiny, immaculate living room, the packages bulging around it. I thought of these girls, who ate plain noodles, who had no winter coats and one pair of shoes apiece, who wondered what the cozy socks their friend had felt like.

We sat down and to me, the tension was almost unbearable.

I explained that my friends and I chose to bring them Christmas, that I had REALLY wonderful friends who loved loving other people. I told her that I knew she was a great mom who worked hard to provide for her three girls, but that I knew she was having a hard time and that we were there to lift the burden. The mom was quietly weeping. I handed her a card with all our names in it (minus those of you who wish to remain anonymous). I said the things aloud I assumed they were thinking – yes, it was overwhelming, yes, more than they imagined, yes, so surprising.

They had decided to save most of the gifts for Christmas morning, but wanted to open a few, so I picked for them carefully, knowing how they were lacking in coats and shoes and today was a miserable, bone-chilling day. They were astounded, exclaiming over how beautifully everything was coordinated in their winter outfits, how awesome their new boots were. One moment in particular stood out to my FB friend and me. A lovely woman I don’t know sent many monogrammed gifts for the girls, from shorts to mugs to hairbrushes. When the 16-year-old unwrapped a monogrammed hairbrush, she said, “Wow, my first ever hairbrush just for me!” Up to this point, she had shared a hairbrush with her sisters and mom. The luxury of her own hairbrush, with her initial on it, made her squeal with delight.

One bag probably had 20 presents in it, from hair scrunchies to lip gloss to cozy socks. I watched the girls and mom carefully handle and touch and exclaim over each one, cradling each gift gingerly, as if it might break, or vanish.

The 12-year-old said, “My jaw would drop but it’s gone now.”

The only item on mom’s wish list that wasn’t basic clothing was a standing mixer. I learned today she had desperately wanted a $70 one at Walmart but knew it was impossible. One of my sweet friends bought her the top of the line Kitchen Aid mixer. He shared with me that years ago his mother had yearned for one but they didn’t have the money. All these years later he was able to buy this wonderful gift for another yearning mother. When she opened it, she wept and laughed and clutched it while her girls asked if this meant they could finally bake. She told them they would. (My FB friend told me that after we left, she sat and hugged the box).

I told the mom I had asked a lot of questions about her and knew that her rent was $931 a month and that after she paid that and utilities and food there was not enough to make it through the month. She quietly acknowledged that this was the case, that her factory job had afforded overtime in the summer but management had ended it.

I asked her who she made her rent check out to, and she told me the name of her complex. I took out our checkbook and began writing the check and told her, “We’re paying your rent for January.” This is when mom and the girls began sobbing, the sort of crying that exposes a deep and visible pain, the pain of worrying every day how to make it to the next one. From my privileged position in life, I have this fear, that people will think they have to be grateful to me, that they will have to express some sort of ridiculous ‘thank you thank you thank you!’ So I just wrote the check matter of factly and handed it to her, and then I said, “And we are paying your February rent,” and began writing that check. There were gasps, and the 14-year-old daughter who cares for her older and younger sisters who have autism, almost collapsed in the chair next to me. And then I wrote a check for their March rent.

As I wrote out each check, my calm face betraying my trembling insides, I thought of all of you who gave so much, who made this happen.

I gave mom an enormous stack of letters and cards and gift cards, enough to pay their groceries and gas and necessities for the next month. And then I let mom know that because we had received so many wonderful gift cards, I would be back in January, February, and March with more installments of gift cards. Oh, and I had entered them in a national contest for a mobile company, a Christmas contest where you tell the story of a deserving family, and they had won. A thousand dollar gift card, a new phone, and service for a year. I almost felt like I was assaulting them with an avalanche of good news.

I wish I had more descriptive language to explain our time with this sweet family, but the word that comes to mind is disbelief.

I told Mom I wanted to help her get a better job, one with benefits, and that I had some good leads. My FB friend had shared that the mom’s bosses at the factory told her two weeks ago she couldn’t have her phone at all during her shift and she expressed concern for her two children with autism and they disregarded those concerns. I told her I had a friend ready to re-do her resume and that I had other friends who wanted to give opportunities to deserving, hard-working people like her.

I did my best to go slow and explain everything as we went because I could see she and her girls were in shock. She told us her big hope had been that her girls would get something for Christmas. They hadn’t expected this.

She had no expectations for herself.

I told the truth, although it sounded bold, almost brazen when the words left my mouth. I announced we had come there not to just change their Christmas, but to help them improve and change their life. I asked mom if she was ready to let us help her do that, and she nodded without hesitation, wiping away the tears that never ceased.

I put my hand on her arm, mother to mother. I told her to breathe. I prayed that when she looked in my eyes, she would feel the support of all of us, that she would know for the first time in a long time, things could be okay. Our families hugged goodbye. Our children hugged each other, my 14-year-old son joking with the 14-year-old daughter that she was way more responsible than him. His comment produced much-needed laughter.

With the checks and cards delivered, the girls re-examined their loot, later asking mom if they could sleep in their new boots.

Because of all of you, they have several home-cooked meals in their freezer, warm clothing, rent paid, groceries provided.

And a chance.

Thanks to you.

As I feel I must do most days, I apologized to my husband. “I’m sorry I’ve been crazy and have ignored our family’s Christmas. You know I have to help her get a job and everything, right?” I will take credit in that I chose my spouse well because he believes our mission on earth is this, to help carry each other when we need it.

In just a few days on Christmas Eve, my husband and I will sit on the couch in our cozy home, watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ It’s our tradition. I have thought of that movie so many times through these two weeks, how one person impacts the lives of so many others.

The ripple effect.

From ten dollars, to hundreds of dollars shoved in an envelope and left in my mailbox, you started a ripple that became a wave that became a tsunami of hope and love.

I told mom that when she is stable, she will be able to help someone else. She nodded, smiling. The 14-year-old said they talk about that at church. She told me she just got all A’s and one B in school this semester. Her mother was smiling at her with pride as she told me, “She wants to be an attorney.” In the midst of such struggle, this mom is encouraging her children to dream, to know they can achieve. She believes in her children, which means her children will believe in themselves.

That is the nature of hope and resilience.

My husband asked me tonight how I felt and I said, “Humbled.” He nodded his agreement.

All I did was ask. You answered.

In a world that seems so fractured, you reminded me of a great truth – we belong to each other.

Is 100 the magic number needed to change a family’s life? I don’t know. I do know that when good intentions and love come together, something even more powerful emerges.

Trees flying into highway traffic cannot stop Christmas.

It came and you are the reason why.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Merry Christmas. – Jaye Watson