A Dead Boy’s Toys Wrapped in Newspaper.

December 18, 2009

A Dead Boy’s Toys Wrapped in Newspaper.

Initially those words may conjure up morbid images, but like most memorable events in life there is a story that lay’s behind them.

I don’t know what brought my memory back to that particular Christmas, possibly a sight or sound or smell, I am not really sure. Yes, I had just purchased gifts for friends and, yes, I was in the hustle and bustle of mailing them out. In a reflective mood I was not; mumbling at traffic was more like it. The images flooding my memory were so powerful that I was forced to pull to the side of the road, to simply sit, to simply recall.

I honestly don’t know how old I was, but it was Christmas and I wanted stuff, not from Santa, but from Mom and Dad. My family’s tradition was to open our presents on Christmas Eve. While being sequestered in our rooms presents were pulled out of hiding places and stuffed under the tree. Us kids where then allowed to gather around as my Dad took forever in reading names from the packages and handing them to the happy new owners, like me! I ripped my wrapping paper to shreds; my sister on the other hand would act like she planned to use the paper to spruce up the walls of her bedroom. Well any way, the year that was brought to remembrance recently, was one where we did not have Christmas wrapping with candy canes and snowmen, just newsprint, black and white, drab, daily news print.

As I remember now, looking back, I did over hear my parents talking about a bleak Christmas. My Dad was out of work and my Mom was laid off from the factory were she worked just before the holiday season. Little did I know I would have one of my best Christmases ever and would not realize it till over thirty years later! While tearing off the black and white stuff and not happy, I was shocked when I realized that my toys were not new. After unwrapping a few more used gifts, I began to recognize these toys and board games. I had played with these things before; it was at my cousin’s house. My parents had just descended to new levels of cruelty. Time can be a wonderful teacher as she brings experience and the unlearned lessons of a young boy become precious memories for a middle-aged father.

Joey, Robbie, Billy and Paulie were my first cousins along with Louie and Peggy. My Mom’s sister had six kids in all and by the time I opened those presents Joey, Robbie, Billie and Paulie were dead. Each one eventually succumbed to muscular dystrophy. My Aunt had given her sister, who is my unemployed Mother, her dead boy’s toys to be wrapped in newspaper, so I had something to be placed under a stinking tree. Can you imagine the memories of pain and loss that those old toys must have garnered as she gave them to my Mom? Things I don’t remember as I think back on that Christmas were being hungry, being cold, being naked or not having a safe place to sleep that night.

I don’t have any of those “used toys” that were given to me that year by love, and by loss, but I sure wish I did. I think I would wrap one of them up in newspaper, put it under the Christmas tree and give it to one of my children as the most precious gift under the tree.

Our focus with my family is now about the most precious gift ever given, the Lamb of God who bore our sins, died on a cross and rose from the dead. His name is Jesus and I think I have often treated Him like the used toys I opened that Christmas long ago. No toy has ever given me lasting joy, but Jesus alone has. I confess that the pull of this world makes iPods and flat screen televisions so attractive. I search for the perfect gifts to give to my family in vain. I now know that the best gift I can give my family is to be a radical lover of Jesus, to love their mother and shepherd their souls. I want them to know that by heavens loss, they have been given the greatest gift of all. Even the Grinch can’t steal that Christmas and the Scrooge can’t deny it.

Jesus, thank you for the greatest gift of all!

Merry Christmas and may God bless us all!

Kevin Turner

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