Language of Love.......

I have to admit that I am having a little trouble getting into the spirit of Christmas this year. I usually love Christmas, but I just can't seem to shake the black cloud that is hovering over my head lately. So today I just wanted to share a wonderful story about how my parents taught me the true meaning of Christmas. I used the story for a paper I had to write in my writing 1010 class this semester. We had to write about how we became literate in some area of life. I chose LOVE. This story is just one of many ways that I have learned the language of love.


When I was seven years old my parents carefully planned a way to teach me about thinking of the happiness of others before my own. To truly appreciate the lesson I learned, you should know something about me. As a small child I loved money. I knew all the places possible to find money in the house: under couch cushions, pockets of Dad’s dirty jeans, the top of the dryer, the top of my Mom’s dresser, and many other unimaginable places. Even though most of it was small pocket change, I just loved having money. I used to think that if I just had one hundred dollars, I would be rich.
Well it was Christmas time and Dad called a family meeting. It was a few days before our big traditional shopping trip and I had all ready been day dreaming of all the things I would love to buy, if I only had some money. My Dad gave everybody a hundred-dollar bill. He said we could do anything we wanted with it, and boy did I have plans! Then he looked at my mother and said he knew of a family that wasn’t going to have much for Christmas and that he would like to give his $100 to that family. Mom agreed with the idea and gave her money. My older sister, Katie, immediately gave her money without even giving it a second thought. But I just sat there and looked at that money and felt it in my hands. Everybody was looking at me, watching and waiting; my parents both knew that it would be a very difficult thing for me to give up the money. In that moment it felt like time just stood still. I can remember sitting there, on the end of my parents’ bed, thinking that my biggest dream had just come true and I was being asked to give it up. With eyes full of pleading desperation, I looked at my Mom and then at my Dad and asked if I could just keep $20. He said sure, I could do whatever I wanted with the money. After thinking it over for a time, I gave the entire hundred dollars.
My mother gathered the money together and sealed it in an envelope. I will never forget how exciting it was to drive slowly through the dark alley in front of the family’s house and turning off the headlights so we would not be detected. The porch light was on, the curtains were open and we could see into the house. My mom snuck up to the door and put the card on the mat, rang the doorbell, and ran. We sat with our hearts in our throats and waited for the door to open and for someone to pick up the envelope.
Since that Christmas twenty years ago I have had countless opportunities to give of myself to others. That year my parents began a tradition that is still carried out to this day. But the beauty of it is that we all do it now. My Mom, my Dad and my sister, along with their spouses and children carry on the tradition in their own way. And yes I continue the tradition. The gift is not the same every year, the receiver may be some one close to us or a complete stranger, but there is always a piece of a loving heart given. My daughter is only four but when the time is right I will find my own way to teach her the same lesson in selflessness that my parents taught me because I truly believe it is a silent language that everyone must posses to truly live a happy life.
I will never know how my hundred dollars made the family feel or how it affected their lives, but I have never forgotten the way I felt or the irreplaceable lesson I learned that night. I will never forget the looks of love and satisfaction my parents gave me when I gave up that precious money. For some people doing this would not have been hard, but it was one of the most difficult sacrifices I have ever made, and also the most gratifying. From this lesson I began to understand the importance of being unselfish, and the ways that it can influence my life and the lives of others. As I began to learn the strength of my actions I sought to shape them more carefully and look for ways to be more giving of myself. I am forever thankful to my parents for teaching me the true language of love and self sacrifice for when I learned that lesson I learned to truly understand who I am.