Our Giving Angels

It was a typical afternoon in early winter. The cool breeze carried our laughter and childish chatter through the house, sounds that were sweet and yet familiar. I was used to the cheerfulness of my home. Even with the hardships my family faced, my mother managed to keep a happy spirit alive within her walls.

The ringing of the doorbell startled us. My sisters and I looked up from our dolls, the little people and the little house we'd grown to love so much, and glanced around anxiously for Mom. The doorbell never rang... we never had unannounced visitors.

Mom hurried into the room, as perplexed as we were, and offered a reassuring "Keep playing, girls, I must have left the gate unlocked."

Despite her instruction, we didn't go back to our game. We just stared, strangely nervous, at the front door. Who could it be? A neighbor? We frowned at each other. Our neighborhood was full of unspoken fear... too close to the crime hotspots of the county.

Mom opened the door with as much an outward confidence as she could muster up. There on the step were two women, hair perfectly smooth in the wind, eyes alert and happy.

"Are you Jennifer?" The older lady smiled warmly, much more at ease than any of us. "I called earlier. I brought the gifts over."

"Oh!" Mom blinked a couple of times, as if trying to wake up to the situation. "Yes, thank you so much. Girls, make some room on the ground."

We stood up immediately to tidy the room, pushing stray chairs into the kitchen and throwing clean laundry onto the couch from where it had fallen.

The two women disappeared to their car. In equal excitement and confusion I asked, "Who are they? What did they bring?"

Tears glossed her eyes. "I don't even know them. They called earlier to ask if they could bring Christmas gifts, since we don't have much this year."

"Why? How did they know about us, Mommy?"

"I have no idea."

We all stood frozen as the women returned, their arms full of wrapped presents, smiles still bright on their faces. Trip after trip they took, back and forth from the car, their arms loaded each time they returned with boxes covered in colorful wrapping paper, adorned with bows and ribbons. They set them at our feet, and the pile grew.

Mom tried to help them carry the gifts, but they turned her help down, insisting that she wait inside with her girls. We all were smiling now, grateful and surprised, amazed at how many presents were before us.

Finally they set down the last two gifts. "That's the last of the presents. Now we have a few groceries."

A tear slid down Mom's cheek as the women once again walked out to their car. "Groceries?" she whispered to herself.

Our giving angels still weren't done. "A few" groceries turned out to be bags and bags of food... cans and boxes of snacks, cereal, nuts, soups... even cheese, milk and yogurt appeared in front of us. Bagels, loaves of bread, English muffins... they had thought of everything.

We tried to thank them. We tried to express how happy and blessed we felt, how much hope they had given us. We asked what we could do in return, begged in vain for their names, and said "Thank you, thank you so much, this means the world. Thank you," so many times that the words became meaningless and redundant.

I still don't know who they were. I don't know how they knew we were in need, why they chose us over the other struggling families they must have been aware of. I don't know how they knew how many children to buy for. how they knew what gifts would make us smile.

I'll always be grateful for the relief my mother felt that day, knowing her children would have a special Christmas morning and wouldn't have to feel the sting of poverty that year.

Thank you, our Christmas angels. You live in my memory as an example of selflessness, and that's the best gift you could have given.