The ‘Perfect Gift’ is so elusive today. However, I came across a beautiful story the other day which really touched me deeply. I think you will agree that the story has a powerful message.

Norma Smith’s  husband, Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it. You know, the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, Norma decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. She reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Their son, Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner city church.

The youngsters from the inner city, dressed in sneakers so ragged that the shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to Kevin’s team mates in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, both Norma and Mike were alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without head gear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously couldn’t afford. Well, Kevin’s team ended up walloping them. They took every weight class. As each of the boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in this tatters with false bravado - a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside Norma, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won. They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.”

Mike loved kids-all kids. He understood kids in competitive situations, having coached little league baseball, football and lacrosse. That’s when the idea came to Norma for his present.

That afternoon, Norma went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner city church. On Christmas Eve, Norma placed an envelope on the tree. The note inside told Mike what she had done and that this was her gift to him. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in each of the succeeding years. For each Christmas, Norma followed the tradition. One year she sent a group of mentally challenged youngsters to a hockey game. Another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas. And so on...

The envelope became the highlight of their Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and their children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.

The year that Mike lost his battle to cancer, Norma was so wrapped up in grief that when Christmas finally rolled around, she barely got the tree up. Yet Christmas Eve found her placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of their children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with Norma’s and Mike’s grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation, watching their fathers take down their envelopes.

Mike’s spirit, like the spirit of Christmas, will always be with the family.

May all of my readers be fortunate enough to find the Spirit of Christmas this year, and may it always be with your family!