One of my favorite Christmas memories was early in our marriage. We got the bright idea to sell everything we owned and up and move our family back to the small town where we lived the first year of our marriage. We had no jobs lined up, no place to live, and little money. We went because that was one of the happiest times of our marriage (at the time) and we had been struggling in our marriage, now with four kids under the age of 12.

We relied on family to help us get a new start (as we did when we first started). Eventually we both found jobs and moved into this huge old farm house where part of our rent was caring for the horses on the property. It was a good experience for us a family because we slowed way down from the way we lived in the big city. Winter came and trying to heat that huge house was a challenge. We were both making minimum wage and there was no $$ for Christmas, much less a tree and decorations.

We did find a scrawny sad little tree and told the kids Christmas was more about us being close as a family. It was a very stressful time and we felt guilty that we had dragged the kids up there and now they were having to go without.

Christmas morning arrived with a blizzard and the kids were opening up their meager little gifts. I remember trying to hide my tears. In the middle of all of it, there came a knock on the window. We cleared the fog from the window and looked out. There was grandaddy and grandmother smiling back at us. They had driven all night from Texas loaded down with Christmas for us. I'll never forget the look on my children's faces. Not only that, later that weekend they took us shopping for household goods and stocked our pantry and refrigerator. It was the best Christmas ever and one we never forgot.

A few months later we packed it all back up and moved back home where we belonged. Lesson learned.