The year was 1981, the month was December, and I was dreading all the holiday festivities. It was looking like a dim Christmas for our family; a very dim Christmas indeed. My husband was unemployed, and as a full time mom of three preschoolers I knew there was no money for gifts or special holiday foods. I wasn’t even sure we would be able to come up with January’s rent. I just wanted Christmas to be over. But God had something very special in store for me.
The first Sunday of December found me in the evening service at my church. As I got ready to leave I noticed a rather thin woman sitting in the last pew of the large sanctuary surrounded by four young boys. Perhaps it was her sad eyes or the way she seemed so still in the midst of her animated youngsters, but I walked directly over to greet her. I felt a little strange talking to this woman I didn’t know, but after just a few questions I knew this encounter was a God-ordained one. I found out Naomi had just arrived in La Grande with her four sons (all under the age of ten), and she was running away from a domestic violence situation so she picked this state and town where she knew no one. She’d left with some clothes and her precious boys, but nothing else. A man in our church was providing her with a home until she could get back on her feet. I was overwhelmed by her dark, sad eyes with heavy circles underneath. The lights in the sanctuary were turning off, but I knew God wanted me to learn more about this woman. At the door to her car I asked if I could come to her home the following week, and she gave me her address.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by what I witnessed at Naomi’s home, but hearing and seeing are two different things. In the kitchen was a metal and formica table with four chairs, a bare bulb hung from the ceiling. The cupboards were mostly empty except for some boxes of cereal and a large can of ground coffee. The refrigerator had a gallon of milk, and the counters were bare except for a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. All the dishes were dirty. There were a few pieces of furniture in the living room, but no rugs on the cold wooden floors. The attic where the four boys slept had three worn mattresses lying around with a tattered blanket on each. There were no toys, just piles of dirty clothes thrown everywhere, and a Sears catalogue that had been shredded by playful boys entertaining themselves. There were no curtains, no pictures, no frills. This place was as sad as the woman living here.
Naomi suffered from abdominal pain and severe headaches, but wouldn’t go see a doctor because she was afraid they would find cancer and take her boys away from her. She was terrified of losing custody of her sons. They were her whole life. What worried me the most was the coffee enema “treatments” she gave herself several times a day for the cancer she feared she had. And she was obviously malnourished.
On my way home I asked God, “What can I do? How can I make her Christmas better?” At home I couldn’t get Naomi off my mind. I wanted so badly to help her and her sons, but how? I thought how silly I was for feeling sorry for myself. Here I was healthy, and married, and with loving extended family. This woman had none of those things, and lived with much less then myself. Yet I had no resources to help her.
God whispered to me in the night that I was a member of a large and compassionate church with many who did have resources. What if I created a list of items needed by this family, and ideas of how to make this a wonderful Christmas for them, then share this list with my church family? By the next day I had that list, and a meeting set up with our active group of generous women in the congregation.
On the list were obvious necessities like toilet paper, detergent, dish soap and the many things which food stamps don’t cover. The women were quick to offer bedding, kitchen supplies and baked treats for the boys. One husband suggested getting a tree, and his wife wanted to decorate it. I shared the boys’ ages (all under ten) and told them there were no toys in the house so it was agreed to make this a special Christmas for them by gathering gifts. I collected all the items coming in on a daily basis. My excitement mounted as the generous offerings poured in from my church family.
During the three weeks before the big day I had almost daily contact with Naomi; if not in person then by phone. She was lonely, sickly and worried. Her pain grew worse in the middle of the night, and twice she called at 3AM in tears. The third time it happened I asked, “Do you want to go the hospital?” and she responded yes. Childcare was arranged, and Naomi had many tests done as an inpatient. She was greatly relieved to discover there was no cancer, but she was suffering from exhaustion. After a few days of TLC (tender loving care), and restful sleep, and no coffee enemas she came home to her boys ready to be mom again.
Naomi and her boys planned a visit to her sister about 100 miles away the week before Christmas. I convinced her to leave me the key to her home so I could make sure the pipes didn’t freeze. That gave all of us ladies from the church several days to clean the home, do all the laundry, make up the beds with new sheets and blankets and pillows. The kitchen was thoroughly cleaned, and the cupboards and fridge were stocked with food. New towels hung in the bathroom, and bubble bath with fancy soaps sat ready. A freshly cut evergreen reaching to the ceiling was brought into the living room, decorated, and many wrapped toys placed underneath. When these women actually saw the barren home we began to receive rugs and hanging pictures and brightly colored tablecloths. The final touches were a handmade wreath on the door, and a fresh arrangement of greens in the center of the festive red-covered kitchen table! I’ve never enjoyed cleaning and decorating so much in my entire life!
Several of us were there when Naomi and her boys got home. At first she was upset to find people in her home. That initial reaction quickly faded as she began to notice the transformation of her house into a home. Naomi couldn’t speak, but the four boys did all the speaking for her. They were ecstatic; running from one room to another shouting out their discoveries to each other and their mom. I treasure that happy memory.
What I thought would be a dim Christmas turned out to be the best Christmas I’ve ever had. And all because I focused on giving to someone who had much less then myself. God used Naomi and her family to teach me a great lesson. The following spring Naomi moved away to go into nursing school. I never heard from her again.
Every Christmas I think of Naomi, and wonder where she is and how she is doing. And I’m always filled with warm thoughts of that very special Christmas!
Are you facing a difficult holiday? Look around. I bet there is someone in your circle of influence that is also facing difficult times, and dreading the holidays as a result. What can you do? How can you touch their lives? Reach out! I promise it will change your outlook, and bring great and unexpected rewards.
Naomi and her four boys!
