Christmas Magic

[pattifan2]

Posted: 12/26/05 at 4:11pm

Anyone experience real Christmas Magic this year? You know, the old-fashioned, heart-warming kind?

We decided at work this year not to send cards to each other and make a donation to charity instead. We collected over £200 and couldn't decide who to donate the monies to. I happened to look through a local newspaper and spotted an article about a nearby hospice so we thought it might was a good idea to send them the money. I went into the bank to deposit the money and when I told the clerk who I wanted the cheque making out to, she teared-up and said what a lovely thing to do. She said she'd lost her husband two weeks ago and he had been cared for in that very hospice. She said the staff there had been wonderful and it had made her Christmas to know we'd donated our money to such a lovely charity.

I thought this was a lovely Christmas moment. Anyone else had a heart-smile moment this Christmas?

[shameless]

Posted: 12/26/05 at 4:31pm

Mine was just being able to experience Christmas morning through the eyes of my two and three-year-old nieces. Especially, the 3-year-old because this is the first year that she really understood what was happening. She woke me at about 4:30, so I had to tell her jokes and stories (and keep her out of the family room) until everyone else got up.

About two hours later, my sister-in-law stuck her head in the room and told her it was time to go see what Santa had brought her. She bolted out of bed and ran to the door, but then she stopped, turned around and came back and got me. She held my hand and walked me out to the tree, like it was my first Christmas. It was one of the most adorable things ever.

Posted: 12/26/05 at 5:06pm

My Christmas magic story takes place many years ago. It was my first Christmas in NYC, and my first Christmas without my family and without friends to share it. I had move to NYC not more than 6 months earlier. I was alone. I had no invitations to dinner on Christmas Eve or none for Christmas Day. If I'm not mistaken Christmas fell on a weekend, too, like this year, so I faced the long major holiday weekend totally alone in Manhattan. There was no Internet then and going to a bar was not my idea of Christmas.

It was cold, and it was snowing on Christmas Eve. With no tree or decorations, nor any wrapped presents to give or so far received, I decided I would take myself to St. Patrick's Cathedral for Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I attended mass fairly regularly and so that's what I would do, and I would not feel so lonely.

So I went to a local hair cutter's salon that just a few doors down from where I lived, and got my haircut. Now I, too, had someplace to go that evening. I couldn't wait for 10:30pm to head over to 5th Avenue.

Approaching the cathedral I saw the crush and crowds of people, and the police barricades, surrounding the church. I walked up the steps to the side entrance on the 51st & 5th, and stood literally and figuratively in the dark. I had no idea why there was such commotion, and I was too embarrassed to ask what might be happening. I realized that people were not simply walking in but instead had to walk through a barricade. I mustered up my courage to speak to the strange woman standing next to me.

"Excuse me, what's happening?"

"You need to show your ticket to get in."

"Do you need to buy a ticket?"

"Oh no, the tickets are never for sale. You have to write to the church office. Months in advance. In the summer. And they send the tickets to you."

"Thank you," I mumbled, and stood there frozen. I realized I was not going to get in to the Mass. The thought of attedning Mass was only thing that kept me strong throughout the day. I missed my family, I was terribly lonely, and now this was not happening. Meanwhile, the woman's husband came and collected her, she said goodnight to me and they walked away.

I stood there and I thought, "What do I do now?" I couldn't accept the fact of returning to my lonely room above the button shop that I sublet from the strange elderly gentleman who never left his apartment after the sun went down.

Then I started praying silently. "Dear God, please let me get in. It means so much to me." I believed I would get into the Mass, that God would not disaapoint me, so I simply stood in the same spot. Simultaneosly, I was too frightened to accept the inevitable and was refusing to start my very lonely walk home.

A moment later the strange woman who had been standing next to me was now standing immediately at my side opposite from where she had been before.

"My husband told me that my father-in-law is not joining us tonight and we have an extra ticket. Merry Christmas." She handed me the ticket and disappeared back into the crowd.

I was overjoyed. It was a beautiful Mass that made me feel surrounded by love on that cold and very lonely night.

For me, it remains the Christmas with the most magic, personifying the spirit behind the holiday in many ways.

[shameless]

Posted: 12/26/05 at 5:42pm

Awww Jose, that was very sweet, and I'm glad someone else is joining me is spiking the sapometer.

[grizzabella]

Posted: 12/26/05 at 9:53pm

My Christmas magic came yesterday morning, and in the whole scheme of things is only a small thing, but it meant a lot to me. I'd sung with our church choir at both services Christmas Eve (8:00 & 11:00) and was scheduled to sing again Christmas morning, before going home and getting things ready for guests at noon to join us for Christmas dinner. Truthfully, I wasn't really feeling like I wanted to sing yesterday morning. I was tired and feeling a bit stressed, but my Mom, who will be 85 in March wanted to go, too. Fortunately, it was a fairly informal service, and most of our choir members were sitting with friends and family, so I was with my mom. Suddenly, midway into the service, I found myself singing "Hark, The Herald Angels Sing," and I looked over at Mom. Because of visual problems, she can no longer read the print in the hymnal, but she was "La-la-ing" along with the music, totally caught up in Christmas morning. It suddenly occurred to me that being with this dear woman, at this service, was a true blessing; that whatever the future holds for either of us, I have this memory, and I had her with me at that wonderful moment. I choked up, could hardly get through the old carol, but at that moment, I felt totally blessed, and it was really Christmas.