December 27: Started to Cry, Angels, Piece of Mind

"You can take it all.  You can pay me back.  Bring it to the play."

"How much is it, for God's sake?"

"Eight dollars and eighty-five cents.  Sixty-five cents.  I spent some."

Then, all of a sudden, I started to cry.  I couldn't help it.

Holden's sister, Phoebe, gives Holden her Christmas "dough" because he's out of cash.  It's a simple act of giving.  Something that a kid does without thinking.  She has money.  Holden needs money.  She gives Holden her money.


I'm sorry I didn't post yesterday.  I worked twelve hours, and then my book club came over last night for our Christmas meeting.  They were here really late, and, by the time the house was cleaned up, I couldn't string two words together into a coherent sentence.

Which I'm really sorry about, because I really had a piece of my mind I wanted to share.  You see, on Christmas evening, we went to a get-together at the house of my wife's cousin.  It was lovely, noisy, crowded, and just a little out-of-control.  Basically, it was a family Christmas.  We had turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potato casserole.  All of my favorites.  And, of course, we opened presents.

My wife's family follows the tradition of choosing names.  So, each adult usually receives one present.  I prefer this tradition.  It cuts down on the commercialism that is rampant this time of year.  It also allows you to purchase something really decent for your person.

Well, I got a little surprise.  All of my wife's sisters, their husbands, our niece, and my wife's grandma pitched in and bought my wife and me a wonderful present.

One of the most expensive expenses in our weekly budget is the purchase of gasoline for our vehicles.  My jobs take me into Marquette, Michigan, about 20 miles away, every day.  My wife usually make at least one trip to the "big city" at least once a day, as well.  That's a lot of gas.

My sister-in-law handed me a card on Christmas night.  Inside the card were gift certificates to a local gas station.  A lot of gift certificates.  Enough so that we won't have to purchase gas for several weeks.  I sat there, completely stunned.  Then, like Holden, I started to cry.

"Don't do that," my wife's cousin said, "or we'll all be messes."

I laughed.

My wife and I are truly blessed.  Some people don't believe in angels.  I can tell you, without a doubt, that they exist.  I may never be able to pay back my wife's family for everything they've done for us over the years.  We've struggled through mental illness and addictions and separations.  We've endured.  Because of love.  Because of family.

Saint Marty believes in Christmas miracles.

Angels are all around me