Christmas Memories II – Everett & Brenda December 11, 2009
Posted by Dan R. Dick in Christian witness, Christmas, Generosity & Giving, Personal Reflection.Tags: Christmas, Faith Sharing
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We all know Christmas is more about giving than receiving, yet the most significant Christmases of all for me are those where through giving I received more than I can describe or explain. There is a magical truth in the simple fact that there is no truly unselfish gift. People who give are the first to admit that they give because of the joy, thrill, and/or satisfaction they receive. It is in pleasing others, doing something meaningful and kind, that (for me) the true meaning of Christmas comes shining through. I didn’t always understand this, but I can point to a turning point in my life where the kindness of a whole community of people produced a minor miracle.
In college I was part of a tight-knit cluster of seven people — Dave and Lisa, Steve, Everett and Brenda, Stacy, and myself — who spent a lot of time together and were as close as any family. We were different ages and from very different backgrounds, but all of us found deep connection with one another. We were all college kids, scraping by, but generally having a great time — until Brenda contracted a viral infection that put her in and out of the hospital for much of 1979. Everett and Brenda were a sweet couple that both escaped difficult homes as children and by God’s grace found each other. Everett’s parents died when he was a toddler, and he spent his life going from one foster family to another. He never laid down roots, and as an adult had no family to speak of. Brenda came from an abusive home — her father died when she was a teenager and she was estranged from her mom. Neither she nor Everett had siblings — they basically had each other, and three beautiful daughters, ages six, four and three. Everett was a pre-med student, deep in debt with student loans, and working two jobs just to stay in school. Only a year away from graduation, the loss of Brenda’s income and the mounting medical bills made it unlikely that Everett would be able to finish school. In early October, Everett lost the higher paying of his two jobs, and their situation got desperate. Over the course of a couple months, they sold everything not nailed down — stereo, television, car, furniture, books — all to be able to subsist on tomato soup and Kraft macaroni and cheese. Their home was a sofa, a table and chairs, a few clothes and toys for the kids and Everett’s typewriter and textbooks.
