"You getting ready for tomorrow night," Harm asks coming behind kissing my neck. I smile and lean into the caress.
"Yeah, the kids said they would help, I'm just waiting for them to come down and help me figure out a plan," I said turning around to meet his lips with mine.
"When aren't we waiting on those two? I swear-"
But he was interrupted by our two very loud children arguing.
"You tell them Nate, you want out of this just as much as I do," Abby says as they finally reach the landing.
"Tell us what Abby?" I ask a bit amused at their fighting.
The twins seem startled by our presence, and both blush, by being caught arguing.
"Tell us what Abigail?" Harm asks more firmly.
"Well you see dad," Nathan starts standing up for her little sister, only by a few minutes, but he'll never let her live it down that he is the older one. "I know we do this thing every year, and I know its helps a lot of people out, but you see Kathy and Drake wanted to hang out tomorrow, and well Abby and I were just wondering if we could hang out instead of going this year."
I look over at Harm who closed his eyes and didn't say anything for a minute. I know he is just as disappoint as I am but he and I both knew that we couldn't force them to do this.
"Fine," he whispers, "Have fun with your friends tomorrow," he says and walks into the other room.
"You know how much this means to your father. How much this means to me. We can't force you to help, but this is tradition. I just hope you remember this tomorrow," I say and walk away from their guilty faces.
I found Harm later that night in the den sorting through an old box. If all of the Christmas decorations hadn't already gone up, I'd think he was doing some last minute decorating, but the way he was staring at the piece of paper in his hands, I knew decorating was the last thing he could have been doing.
"What's going on," I asked sitting beside him on the couch.
"It seemed like such a good idea to get the kids involved in the Paper Angels for the Salvation Army. It's just so hard to get kids to realize the true meaning of Christmas; for just being thankful for what the have. When did our kids believe that hanging out with their friends was more important then help other people?"
"I don't know Harm. I guess they don't know because they never had to make a paper angel," I said reaching into the box and pulling out another paper.
We sit for a long time, each looking at our own paper angels, now crinkled and yellowed with age. Though the words may have faded a bit, the memories and the hope that those angels gave us, reminded us both of our not so happy childhoods. Maybe it was time our children learned that.
Later that night, after Harm went to bed, and our children were sleeping, I snuck into their rooms and left the angels on the nightstands, where they were sure not to be missed. On Harm's angel he wrote, all I want for Christmas is for my family to be together again. And on mine, still painful, even now to look at, I wrote all I want for Christmas is for a real family Christmas.
Harm and I had to leave early the next morning, so it gave the kids plenty to think about for tomorrow.
Harm and I rose early the next morning, long before our sleep deprived teens would ever think about getting up, and started loading the car with the gifts we had picked out says earlier. Harm, instead of being his usual cheery self, was somewhat distracted.
"Cheer up Harm," I said as we got in the car. Just think about how many kids will actually be getting a good Christmas this year."
"I know Mac, I know. But this is tradition. They used to love waking up early, going to the toy store for last minute present for the kids they chose, helping pass the gifts out, then going to the wall," he sighed in frustration. "I just wanted them to see what Christmas was all about."
"I know Harm, I know," was all I could tell him.
A few hours later amongst the shredded wrapping paper and shinny new toys I found Harm with a small boy on his lap. I wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but by the look on the child's face, and on harm's, I knew that they both seemed to be having the time of their lives. I was about to go join them when a tug on my sleeve made me turn around. Their stood my two children, holing the paper angels I had put in their rooms last night.
"We had Drake's mom drop us off," Nate said, as Abby searched the room for Harm. "We found your paper angles."
"Mom, why didn't you ever tell us that you and dad had paper angels when you were kids?" Abby asked with tears in her eyes.
"We didn't want you to do donate your time and money to helping people, because of that. We wanted you to see for yourselves how bad some people have it, and the hope that they still have that things will and can get better. It was just one year after you Dad had lost his father when he wrote that angel. He still believed that there were people out there; good decent people who could make his wish come true. As for mine, well I never had a family Christmas, and when I was eight years old, I decided that's all I wanted, a family Christmas just like the ones on TV. Your dad and I never got what we wanted, we just thought that we could help these family have a good Christmas. It's not about presents and toys but just about believing, just about believing that miracles can happen."
We turned and looked at Harm who was now tickling the boy sending him into a fit of giggles. But when I turned back to Nate and Abby, they were gone. Searching the room, I smiled and watched as they were helping set out the snacks that were being provided. But they had left the two paper angels by the table where they stood. I picked them up, and smiled to myself. Both prayers were finally answered.
Paper
angels you're in my thoughts and prayers,
No matter where you are
right now,
Remember God's right there,
He's asking all of
us,
To help take care of all his paper angels everywhere,
Paper
angels everywhere
End.
Please, I encourage you all to donate to the Salvation Army, or other charity organizations. Please help make the holiday season a happy on for families all around the world.
