A Time to be Thankful ~ Day 3 My Uncle Andy

Family - Uncle Andy

Since I don't have siblings, I tend to relish in the moments that I get to spend with the family that I do have.  My mom, aunts, uncles, and lots of cousins make up my realm of family.  The majority reside in KY.  However, I am fortunate to have family here in Houston - my Aunt Donna, Uncle Wayne, and Uncle Andy.

 

Growing up with my Aunt Liz, Aunt Donna, and Uncle Wayne was like having siblings.  There is not a big difference in our ages.  They have always been there for me at the drop of a hat.  My Aunt Donna is one of the reasons I was able to come to Houston.

My Uncle Andy, who is closer in age to my mom, lived far away from KY when I was growing up. I rarely got to see him.  However, my mom shared so many stories about their childhood that I dreamed of hanging out with him.  When he did come to visit, I thought he was the coolest. His hair was long and he wore leather jackets with leather boots.  I knew the heaviness of those leather boots all to well.  He stomped on my hand once when I was trying to rescue a caterpillar from his terror. Naturally the caterpillar was squashed and my hand throbbed for days.

Uncle Wayne & Uncle Andy goofin!

It wasn't until I was living in Houston that Andy and I got to bond. We both moved to Houston around the same time. After hanging out with him, I was surprised to find that we had many alike.  Like me, it isn't easy to trust people and we are loyal to the friends we do have. We both like about the same type of music, movies, and love to be a recluse at times. Many of his similarities remind me of my Grandma Jean as well as my mom.  

These last few years haven't been the easiest.  Yet Uncle Andy takes everything in stride.  He keeps a positive outlook.  He can always make me laugh and be straight to the point.  Like my mom, he never sugar coats anything.

As I mature, I realize that nothing can replace memories we make with family.  We can hang on to baggage or we can choose to let it go and make some memories.  Nothing can change the past but we can strive for a better future. I love my Uncle Andy!

The Gift of Belonging

What's more important than a Gift?

When I was growing up, I couldn’t wait for Christmas.  Each year seemed longer than the previous one as I looked forward to what Santa left behind under the tree.  The majority of the time I didn’t get the gift that I had written to Santa about but that didn’t matter.  At least he had left me something under the tree.

Growing up in poverty can cause Christmas to be a lot less fun when you see the nice gifts that other kids have, not to mention the stress that the parents have to endure. I was blessed to have gifts under the tree on many Christmas mornings.  However, we did have our share of quite a few Christmases where we debated about even decorating as we had no money for gifts or even a wonderful Christmas dinner.

As children, my aunts and uncle, who were a few years older than me, seldom had gifts under the tree.  Homemade Christmas decorations were made from paper, buttons, or whatever else they could find.  A scrawny pine tree that my uncle had dug up served as the centerpiece on a few occasions. Strangely, my Grandma somehow always managed to make delicious Christmas desserts, rolls, and breads from out of nothing. It was if she had magically whipped them up out of dirt.  I can remember a few times when I went with my aunts and uncle to the Salvation Army in South Jackson, KY.  A ministry would host a Christmas party in a big gymnasium where Santa would be there.  The children of Jackson would sometimes get coats, clothes, toys, and a bag filled with fruit and nuts.

As usual, our stressful times mainly came from school.  Every year at LBJ Elementary, our class had the option of picking names so that the students could give one another presents. What kid doesn’t want a present? Naturally almost all kids wanted to draw names. The name you picked was to remain a “secret” until the day of gift giving. 

Of course I always threw my name in the bucket to be picked even though my mom had warned me many times not to draw names.  Fearing her wrath, I waited until a few days before our class gift exchange to tell her the bad news.  A few times the gift I brought was wrapped in white freezer paper or aluminum foil with yellow freezer tape left over from one of our hog killings.  Once I even took a gift in a paper bag. Regardless, I still had to take a gift for the name I had drawn even if my mom made me give away a toy of my own.

Like me, my aunt was warned to never draw names.  My grandparents could barely afford food on the table, so buying some strange kid a gift was definitely out of the question. Yet my aunt could not contain her eagerness one year and she threw her name in the bucket anyway.  When names were drawn, she barely took notice of the name she held.  Besides, she was certain to get a gift. Unfortunately the day of gift exchange came all too quickly.  She had “forgotten” to bring a gift.  As the gifts were passed out to the children, my aunt excitedly opened hers. A doll.  Not exactly what she wanted but at least she got a chance to open a gift.  One child sat without a gift.  Tears ran down her face. She was the “forgotten” name that my aunt had picked.  Before the teacher could investigate names, my aunt gave the doll to the “forgotten” girl. My aunt cared less about some doll.  She was just happy being part of a group that opened presents.

The gift of giving is always an important lesson at Christmas, but the gift of belonging is even more important.  It’s not always the gift that we seek but the joy of unwrapping a gift of belonging.

No matter what gift you give or get this Christmas, share the gift of joy and love with others. Help them feel "belonged" even if they are strangers to you.

The precious gift at Christmas is knowing

that we belong in God's family.

Merry Christmas!