How God Taught My Family What It Means to Be Jesus at Christmas

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

This may sound like the opening lines of a famous novel, but it was true. We had very little in that season of our lives, but our little pushed us close to Christ, where we found abundance.

I was a single mom who normally worked two or three jobs, but because of my inability to pay for the continuing education classes needed to renew my teaching certificate, I was down to one job. Waiting tables at the local Olive Garden didn’t come close to providing the income I needed each month, so as Christmas approached and my feverish search for a full-time job proved fruitless, my stress level rose.

Like many eight-year-olds, my son Hayden sent a lengthy list of items off to Santa. He had been an excellent boy that year. I wasn’t sure how he’d take it when Christmas morning rolled around and all he received were the two free cats I’d found on Craigslist.

We’d taken my entire shift’s earnings to the dollar store on a rainy Thursday afternoon and spent all thirty-two dollars on gifts for friends and family. We spent the next several hours wrapping them and anticipating who would like which gifts best. I found tremendous freedom in this escape from the pressure to give the perfect gift and yet also sorrow as I realized my son would not be unwrapping any gifts on Christmas morning.

A week or so later, I received a call to come to my church’s office. I was a volunteer for several of ministries, so this wasn’t unusual. Upon my arrival, I was led into a room filled with wrapped gifts. Our youth group had “adopted” my son that Christmas. New clothes, shoes, and the mp3 player my son had been asking for were placed in my arms. I sobbed. I was overwhelmed with the lavishness of God’s faithfulness and this outpouring of love.

I’d been home mere hours when my roommate arrived with a Wii console and controllers. My son wanted one desperately. “Look what your boy is getting for Christmas!” she said. I was stunned. Apparently an anonymous donor had contacted her about gifting my son with one. It came complete with a note from Santa and instructions.

Later that night, as I sat in my room crying over God’s goodness, my phone rang. A friend wanted to know if I would be upset if she told me she had purchased a PSP for my son for Christmas. Her son already had one, and it had been a really good deal. As she handed it to me a short time later, I noticed through my tears that it was the Madden version he’d been eyeing for over a year. I laughed aloud. It was impossible that she could have known.

My heart didn’t know how to take in the extravagance of God’s love that year. As I wrapped each gift in preparation for Christmas morning (and attempted to hide Drake and Josh, the two free cats), the Lord spoke quietly to me. He said he knew the way to love me was to love my son.

As long as I live, I will treasure the memory of that Christmas morning. Hayden was blown away as he opened gift after gift while the cats hid beneath our beds. With delight in his eyes, Hayden declared it the best Christmas ever.

I’ve never forgotten the words the Lord spoke to me about loving me by loving my son. Each year, my family and I find ways to be the hands and feet of Jesus by loving kids in tangible ways at Christmas. Maybe we buy a beautiful Christmas dress with matching shoes for a little girl, a basket full of toys for the little boy whose dad was laid off this year, or a plane ticket home for the college kid spending his first year away from home. Whatever it is God lays on our hearts, I know I’ll never be done loving others by loving their children, especially at Christmas.

Stacey Philpot is wife to Ryan and mother to Hayden, Julie, and Avery. She is a writer, goofball, and avid reader. Stacey has ministered for over 15 years to youth and women in her community in order to equip them to go deeper in Christ. She blogs at aliferepaired.com and chronicallywhole.com.

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