(for I consider you all friends–all of you who took part in the Christmas miracle to help Isaac’s family)
There are some experiences in life so bitter-sweet, it is painful to recount them. And that is how I feel about the day I delivered Isaac’s Christmas gifts. To tell you about that day means to travel back toward a heartache that time has since dulled to a degree. But I will go back there for you, because you were a part of it all along, and you deserve to be a part of it still.
Isaac was not at school the day I delivered his Christmas gifts. He had not been at school all week, because he had been at home taking care of his sick mother. I wanted to see him personally; to tell him everything that had happened to make this miracle happen. But finally I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t see him myself, and instead, I wrote him a letter. My husband Fred helped me load up the mini-van–it was packed!–and we drove to Isaac’s school, where his school counselors were waiting for us.
|It was a packed mini-van.|
|Van’s loaded; I’m ready to go play Santa Claus!|
|Isaac’s new bike in his school parking lot.|
I was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning as we unloaded the van and sent loads of gifts, groceries, and of course the bike into the school. The counselors would deliver it to Isaac’s home that afternoon. They thanked me and asked me to express their appreciation to everyone who made this possible. Then they told me that this would mean a lot to Isaac’s family. They told me that his mother’s illness was quite serious and that it would, in fact, take her very soon. They told me that this would be their last Christmas together as a family.
|Isaac reading his letter with his mom.|
And even though I had only spent five minutes in Isaac’s presence, I felt the blow as if it was happening to someone very close to me. I stood there shivering in the cold parking lot, with Fred’s arm around my shoulders, and I cried for Isaac. I didn’t stop crying for him for a while. I cried all the way home from his school. And now, typing this, I find I still have tears for him. I don’t know what will happen to him when his mom dies. The counselors didn’t know. They vaguely said that his older sisters would take care of him. But he’s so young still, and it hurts to think of what he will go through–what grief, yes, but also what hardships he will face.
I wrote Isaac a letter. (I already told you that.) It was kind of long, and kind of personal. But I will tell you the gist of it–I told him that I believed we crossed paths for a purpose. I told him that no matter what happens in his life, he is never alone, because God loves him and watches over him. I told him that he could always pray for help and that God would send someone to help him, just as He sent me the day Isaac’s bike broke. I told him how so many people donated money and clothes and time to let him know that he was not alone, and that all of these people–even though none of you know him personally–care about him. And I encouraged him to be good, to work hard, to wear his bike helmet, and to be sweet to his mom. At the end of the letter, I included the names of everyone who made a donation. In addition to the help given to Isaac’s family, I donated the leftover cash ($600) to the Northwest Middle School family support program. I know it will go to good use.
|Christmas in Isaac’s home|