This was the first Christmas my child and I would have without a tree, without gifts, without a home. I had finally left my abusive relationship after the last attack left me hospitalized. I am well educated. I had a well paying career that solely supported our home but now was left homeless as it wasn’t safe to return. My teenager knew the situation and that we wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas this year. Although upset, she understood and would tell me we’re healthy, we’re happy, we’re safe every day.
Being so close to Christmas the deadline for gift donation applications was closed. Someone had learned of our situation and asked if they could provide a few gifts for us. Putting my pride aside, I accepted their offer as we didn’t even have a week worth of clothing between the two of us. On the day I had met to pick up a what I assumed was a few gifts for my daughter, I was handed bag after bag after bag of clothing and household supplies for us. The last gift I received was the Christmas jar along with the book and a note saying the book would explain the meaning of the jar. When I got home I was so intrigued I spent the morning reading the book. I couldn’t stop crying from happiness and the miracle of the story. I plan on starting this tradition next year and the years to follow.