Posted in Generosity

The Unthinkable

“Be an opener of doors for such as come after thee.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

One Saturday afternoon, over a month ago, I tweeted that I was considering changing my blog’s theme. There were things that I wanted to try and I was hoping to get a new look and feel…something fresher, cleaner, and more modern, so I asked for some opinions and feedback.

My generous and talented friend, Ashley, quickly responded to my tweet.

She advised me and gave me some things to think about.

Then, she did the unthinkable.

She offered to help me.

I have since wondered how many times she regretted answering my tweet.

She was so incredibly patient with me as I tried to boil down exactly what it was that I wanted.

She listened to me rattle on about font choices, plug in options, SEO questions, and which shade of brown I should use, the toasty brown or the grayish brown?

Sigh. Poor Ashley.

When Craig reached out to her today to thank her for her patience (read: insanity), she replied that she loves to “pay it forward.”

That she did. And then some.

Thank you, Ashley. You are an amazing friend and I will never forget your generosity. I only hope that I can help you similarly one day soon.

Ashley blogs over at Just Another Mom of 2. Please leave a comment for her here telling her how amazing (read: crazy) she is and then pay her a visit on her blog and say hello. You can also find her on Twitter, where I do hope that she learned a lesson about offering help. ;)

Certified, Insured, Fragile

A package would arrive, she said.

Certified, insured, fragile.

Terribly important she stressed.

We were out on an errand and we missed the delivery.

The box was returned to the post office, where it sat over the weekend.

Certified, insured, fragile.

And she worried.

Then she worried some more.

When the package, after being scheduled for redelivery, finally arrived at our home, she finally breathed again.

My mother.

She had sent us a gift, wrapped in tissue paper, memories, tradition, and love.

She had sent us Santa.

My mother won him in a raffle for a childrens’ charity shortly after she and my father were first married.  Her lucky Santa, she always called him.

For years, he symbolized the start of the holiday season and all of the wonder and hope that came with it. I was certain that he carried magic in his bag.

Every evening, my mother would wind up his music box, two, three, four times, so that I could get lost in the delicate chimes.

After ever-so-carefully pulling him out of the box, I placed him on the table for Katie and Matthew to see.

I carefully wound his music box and hugged Matthew close and then reached for Katie’s hand.

I could see in the delight on Katie’s face that Santa was every bit as magical to her as he had been…still is…to me.

In the days since we received him, I’ve come to realize that relinquishing him couldn’t have been easy for my mother. As I have watched Katie enchanted by the sight of him each day, I’ve caught myself thinking that I could never part with him, as he will undoubtedly come to hold the same memories for me that he had for my mother.

He does, indeed, carry magic in that bag.

That she parted with him for us, in hopes that we too would experience his wonder, means the world to me.

Thank you, Mom.  Thank you for sharing something so special with my little family.

Thank you for trusting me with something so dear to you.

We love you so very much.

Merry Christmas.

This post is linked up to the Red Writing Hood prompt, Charity.

About me

Nichole Beaudry @NicholeBeaudry Location: Northern California
Each and every day, I strive to appreciate the wonder, beauty, and whimsy in the small moments, the moments that, when strung together, form a lifetime.
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