Holiday Message Part 2: The Merry Mailman

My father had two jobs to support our family of five children. He worked hard as a letter carrier at ?our hometown post office during the Holiday Season and used his tips and overtime money to purchase our family gifts. His postal bag carried on his shoulder was heavy, which weighed him down, and his nose frequently had ice cycles forming on it when it snowed. Having no reindeer to help him, he walked on foot to deliver the holiday mail in our community. Everyone knew him, and he knew everyone on his route. After he completed this job, he went on to work at his PAL center as director until 10 pm daily.

On Christmas Eve one year, my dad, feeling compassion for those in lower income brackets in our neighborhood fixed up a used bicycle we had stored in the basement. Unbeknown to me, he and my sister placed the bike and other wrapped gifts on the front porch at the home of a poor family with 13 children—one of whom was my friend–rang the doorbell, and then hid in the nearby bushes to see the reaction they had when opening the door. Since many of my gifts requested from Santa were given away, my parents hustled to replace them before the stores closed. When I awoke on Christmas morning, filled with anticipation, I found my gifts in the usual place between the dining room and living room, and soon afterwards realized that Santa delivered the wrong package down our chimney because the gifts received were not on my list. At first, I was disappointed, but accepted the replacements after hearing of my dad’s gifts of love to my friend’s family who opened them with delight. ???