Since this is Christmas Eve of course, my mind takes me back to when I was a child in Iowa. Christmas at our house was pleasant. Yes, pleasant. There was enough money for about two gifts for each of us when I was young. I have told about getting a Timex watch for Christmas and it didn't work. My mother was heartbroken. There was only one gift left for me that year which I am sure was something for me to wear. She had made me pajamas and dresses for as long as I can remember. She was still sewing for me when I was a young mother. The thing is, I didn't appreciate what she did and went through for me to give me those two gifts. I not once felt cheated out of a lot of presents like a lot of my friends received. But one Christmas the ugly head of jealousy reared it's ugly head. Wouldn't you know it, it was at school when I was in second grade.
Every year parents sent Christmas gifts with their children for their teachers. The school bus driver got a gift and the mail man got a gift. This particular year I was noticing that my gift to my teacher was the same as what my mother gave the bus driver and the mail man. I heard the bus driver (his name was Charlie), tell my mother how much he appreciated her gift and to have a Merry Christmas. My ears were hot and probably red. I was embarrassed, hurt, and jealous of other kids' gifts to him, but especially to my teacher.
Her name was Mrs. Hanson. She was tiny and pretty. She sat behind a big desk at the front of my school room. Her desk was piled high with Christmas gifts from her student's parents. They were beautiful. The packages were brightly wrapped with Christmas paper, or some with white tissue paper. There were bows and ribbons on the packages. Some of the gifts were small and some were odd shaped and some were rather large. Mine was none of those. Mine was a loaf of bread. Yes, an every day loaf of homemade bread wrapped in tinfoil. Mother had wrapped a blue ribbon around it and placed a homemade bow in the middle. I wanted to run away and hide. I can remember hardly being able to swallow I was ashamed for the first time in my life. I was seven years old. That is not the end of the story. When it was time that afternoon for our Christmas party the teacher opened everyone's gifts and thanked them for it. She smiled and smiled and said how pretty things were, how much she loved them etc. She came to mine and read the tag. She didn't open my gift. I wanted to melt into the floor. She smiled at me and said, "This is a very special gift, LuAnne. Your mother makes the best homemade bread in the county. I will make sure to serve this to my family on Christmas Day. I will send a note home with you to give to your mom. Merry Christmas, LuAnne. You are so lucky to have a mother like you do."
Well, that teacher remains in my heart as one of my favorites. She made a little girl's day and that memory remains with me for more than seventy years. Teachers and moms are special kinds of Christmas angels whose lessons remain with us for a lifetime.
