Discovering the true meaning of Christmas

It was my first Christmas as a single mother. My boys were 7 and 9 years old, and finances were slim. We were fortunate to have a comfortable small brick home in Reno near the university. Friends had organized a Christmas-tree cutting expedition around Portola, and the tree was decorated and evoking memories in my little boys of their former gift-laden holidays.

I had returned to UNR and was working toward a degree and working part-time. We had enough to pay the basic bills, but nothing for extras. The boys would have gifts at their dad's house, but my heart was heavy at the thought of the meager number of presents that would appear under our tree.

Then a little miracle happened. I don't even remember now exactly how it came about. A friend, an acquaintance really, was cleaning out her closets. Her sons were several years older than mine and had taken good care of their toys. She brought over a carload of well-cared-for games and toys that were perfect for my sons.

Our household had often used recycled and hand-me-down items, so getting something with worn corners did not bother my kids. Thanks to the care and generosity of a long-ago friend, we had a Christmas tree piled with gifts to open and a mom without too much guilt!

I finished the degree. Many Christmases have come and gone since then, but that year, Santa really did visit, and it stands out in my memory as a shining example of kindness and the true meaning of Christmas.

Jean Murray is a resident of Carson City.