Copyright 2002
True story


Homeless Christmas –

Best Christmas Ever

Through out my childhood, in my middle income family,
Christmas was always a joy.
Family, Friends, the gifts, and the spirit,
Memories for a lifetime to enjoy.
But this year was different, in 1988,
Two small children and I in a strange town,
With no where to go.
Finally in mid-December we landed in
A homeless shelter settled in cold snow.
I bravely told little ones that it was not really Christmas,
This year,
Only everyone was practicing for the year to come.
Which that year would be the grandest ever.
Then at night I would cry as I watched,
My toe head babies sleep.
Nothing to give them, nothing to keep.
I ignored the beautiful lights, and went deaf
To seasonal, spiritual, music of Noel,
I turned my head to the Santa asking for change,
I hid it so well.
Who needed Christmas anyway?
I often forsake to my children.
We would sing Happy Birthday to Jesus,
But that would be all, our lives were too complicated
After all.
Christmas Eve settled so quiet,
In the old church serving as a woman’s shelter.
I could hear the quiet tears of other mummies
As we all shared the same fate.
We could hear the rustling around in a distant room, and it too woke the kids. The manager came to us and explained it was just…
Santa Claus and we must go back to sleep.
I though, ‘Oh, how nice to stage such an event, but how cruel
With out bad intent.
We awoke to see our beautiful tree in the lobby, empty of course.
Then went to the dungeon (basement) for our Christmas breakfast.
Usually consisted of cold slimy eggs and burnt bacon.
Once again I ignored the magnificent day,
It had no place in my heart this year.
As slowly dredged up the long stair case back to our cold rooms,
We heard a noise of sweet music of Silent Night.
I thought they could torture us no more.
When we ascended to the top of the steps,
The room was void of people
But there was an incredible mess.
BOXES and Boxes, never any that were small,
Scattered the room, scattered it all.
The tree shown brighter than it ever had before,
As each little child ran with joy to find boxes 4 foot by 4!
With each name on it, spelled just right!
My little ones too, ran in search of their very own box,
Overflowing with ribbon’s and bows, toys and candy.
For a moment I held my breath,
What if…Santa forgot us?
Then in the corner of the room were three huge boxes,
They must have been the biggest, most brightest boxes
In the entire room.
I followed my little blonde boy and little curly head girl
As they, for the first time in weeks, giggled with glee.
And there I sat and watched while my beautiful little children,
Who I thought would have nothing,
Open green, red, and blue wrappings with gold,
Every special little toy or article of clothes,
Brought laughter and joy through out the room.
I looked around me and say mothers in awe,
And I myself, who had neglected my own box,
Silently let tears slip from my eyes.
God had not forgotten my children after all,
In this cold, dark church with no friends and no family
The tears welled up in my eyes as I looked above to Jesus,
And thanked him for blessing my children,
But not necessarily with gifts, but the spirit of others,
Who cared so much to remember my children at Christmas!


Personal note:
Later the manager at the shelter explained that the minister and his wife donate each and every Christmas Eve to spend the entire night secretly wrapping gift for children and mothers. They do this ONLY to see the look in the eyes of the Mummies as their children open the unexpected gifts.