The Christmas Why
Although it happened over a decade ago – this story remains etched in my mind – not because it happened in the easy to remember year 2000 – but because of the haunting feeling of clarity it left me with. And as my Dad always asks, “is this a true story”? Indeed it is. I wrote it as a speech for Toastmasters – and called it The Christmas Why. But I always said it was not so much a speech as it was a story. A true Christmas story.
I spent a lot of time driving downtown in the year 2000, and to get to my designation in the Parliament area – I would pass through a rougher area of Toronto. It was a very sad area to drive through each day – to see the homeless and lost souls aimlessly drifting and begging. There was a type of half way house or food kitchen on one of the streets – and I would watch as a certain group I grew to recongize over the months restlessly waited outside each night to be let in for snacks (it wasn’t a shelter) and then again they would congregate in the morning for breakfast.
In the summer it didn’t seem like such a hard life – one couple even acquired a puppy – which I watched grow over the seasons – but when the winter months moved in – it was a brutal and savage life. It was freezing, and it just seemed, well, hopeless for them. Even the puppy had grown up and lost his charm, and now looked like a cold, hungry and homeless dog. My heart went out to this forgotten little band of 20-30 homeless people that I saw each time I drove by on this street.
That year we had our annual Christmas Temp party – I worked for an agency at the time – and the weather was terrible. We estimated for about 100 coming – about 35 showed. We had a ton of food left over – and over 60 beautifully wrapped boxes of truffles. We had gourmet sandwiches (the really thick deli kind!) hot apple cider, Christmas cookies, fancy squares – all the traditional fanfare of Christmas over-indulgence – and we had a lot of it! It was suggested to be thrown out. What a waste.
Then I had an idea. We could package it up and I could deliver it downtown after work to my little band of people that haunted my thoughts! The idea was met with ridicule. People wouldn’t want our ‘left-overs’ …
I thought that if we wrapped up even 20-30 plates of food, and included a present – it would be a grand idea! The staff did not agree with me – but did help me put the plates together – sandwiches – squares, Christmas cookies – very festive looking! I re-jugged the hot apple cider – it would still be warm for when I arrived!
However – a work emergency then took over and I could not leave the office until late that evening. Too late for my delivery – I thought I could deliver it in the morning .. Not ideal – but it would work!
I was up at 5:45 the next morning. It was pitch black out. The food and presents awaited delivery in my car. And I was scared to death to do it.
What seemed like a good idea (a grand idea!) the day before now appeared foolish. What was I thinking?? The sandwiches would be dry, the cider would be cold, this was a dumb, dumb idea. The staff were right. Who would want our leftovers? How insulting. Just throw it out.
But as I reflected over my coffee, in the warmth and quiet of the house – I listened to that harsh wind whistling outside – and I knew if I were homeless – I would want someone to care.
So I went outside to get the spiced cider – it had frozen overnight – and I put it in the microwave to reheat it. I reflected again – my mind was all over the place – it was a great 'concept' but… there were 1000 different reasons why I should just abandon my idea add simply go to work.
But something pushed me to go.
I drove down the darkened streets at about 5km an hour – praying for courage so my knees didn’t feel so weak. It never arrived – courage is never ‘on call’ …
I pulled up to the front of the alcove in the still pitch black. It was very early and those doors were generally not opened until much later.
My heart was pounding so hard I could see it through my coat. Dumb idea. And I was wearing a white coat – an easy target! But I popped the trunk of the car – took a deep breath and I got out. I left the car running – I thought the odds of me needing a quick get away far exceeded those of someone stealing the car at this hour
I went up to the group – who all immediately turned to stare at me – it felt somewhat like I was in a movie from Night of the Living Dead. In the gloom of the early morning, I explained that our company had had a party the night before, and we had lots of extra food and presents, and I thought they might like to share.
Dead silence.
Dumb idea, dumb idea. My legs were too weak to bolt back to the car so I tried again. “Here – let me show you”. I walked shakily back to the trunk and took out a few plates of food and a couple of the presents. I handed the first plate of food to a huge, really scary looking man – with a massive scar all along his face. From his forehead, across his eye – down his throat . He glared at me. I handed the rest to the others with as much false bravado as I could. I truly could not tell whether I would be received – or those plates were going to come right back at me. Or – from the insult of bringing leftovers – would I be a recipient of one of those scars?
I had stopped breathing.
Time stood still. The smell in the alcove was overpowering. The smell of urine, sickness, garbage and fear all ran together. The guy at the front – who had been watching me with his rumey eyes, and with the red nose of someone who has been drinking for a very long time – looked intensely at me and said, very gently and articulately, “what agency did you say you were from, dear”?
I explained I wasn’t from a social service agency – our company had had a party – and we had had extra.
The scary man with the significant scar stared at his plate and said in a quiet and incredulous voice, “Christmas cookies” and then he looked up – with a light his eyes and said, “Sandwishes”!!! He wasn’t dangerous – he was simple. Sand-wishes. I will never forget.
He looked at the shortbread, the fruitcake, the Nanaimo bars on his plate and then at his box of truffles, and he said, “A present for .. ME”???? He was overcome with emotion and the ice was broken.
The front man introduced himself as Mike – and as he shook my hand, he looked deep into my eyes and the way he said something shook me to my core. He kept hold of my hand and in his gentle but quavery voice, he said, “Why. Why have you done this”?
Why?? I looked back intently in his eyes, and even in the squalor, I saw the dignity he still possessed – and was overcome. Why? With as much respect as I could muster, I said, “because it is Christmas and I thought of you”.
He turned to the group, and he said, “Everyone – this is a real live Christmas angel, and she has brought every one of you a present”! (I think the white coat had something to do with the angel part ...)
The group became alive. I shook hands with everyone in the alcove and wished them a Merry Christmas. We took the remaining food and presents out of the car. The hot apple cider was received like they had won a lottery. I joined them – with the icy wind whipping around my legs, with my cup of hot apple cider and we talked.
At that moment I got it. I understood. Humanity. Christmas, with all of its commercialization loses us. There’s far too much external stimulus and expectation. It’s not about the glitter, the incessant shopping, the parties – Christmas is really what’s inside of all of us. And that is too often pushed so far down we lose our perspective about what is really truly important. It’s about Kindness. Good will to all men. Everywhere. Every day.
Each time I see a homeless person to this day – I do think, “sand-wish” and it keeps that feeling of kindness to all ever present.
Although we are now in a more multi-cultural society and technically Christmas is a season that is not celebrated as in the past – I’m keeping my story as is. It is, after all, a true story.