The bad news this year was that one of our sons and his wife moved to Alabama. It’s not that I have anything against Alabama. It’s just that I like for our kids to be close enough to visit often. But, they had no choice. That was where the job was.
Then the good news was that they hoped to be able to come home for Christmas. We hoped they would be here for the Christmas Eve party and gift exchange.
But then, more bad news. They would have to take two days to drive from there to here, and he had to work second shift Dec. 23, so they would be here Christmas Day.
Oh, well, something is better than nothing. At least we would get to see them, up close and in person.
We planned to attend Christmas Mass at Memorial Hall at 3:30 Christmas Eve. In previous years we had eaten at our house at 5:30.
This year I decided it was time for a change. It just wasn’t necessary to rush home from Mass to prepare to serve a buffet lunch to an army in less than an hour. We would eat at 6:30.
Our Alabama son’s youngest sister called a few days later and informed us he had called and told her to tell me to be near the phone at 5:30 Christmas Eve because they would call from wherever they were on the road.
I told her to call him back and tell him to call at 7 because everyone would be here by then.
She replied, “No way. You call him.” So I told Bill to email them, and he did.
My decision to delay the Christmas Eve food fest proved to be a wise one. Everything was ready by 6, so we did start early, but everyone was here except those who would call at 7.
A little before 7 the phone rang. I took one phone, and Bill took another. It was our missing son. “Where are you? I asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered, “but it’s really cold, and there’s snow on the ground.”
I could hear his teeth chattering. “Well, why don’t you get inside where it’s warm?”
“Okay, but your Christmas present is on the porch. Open the door.”
Someone from our crowd spoke up and said, “Hey, there is something out there.” They opened the door and to everyone’s amazement in walked our missing kids.”
Before I disconnected the call I managed to say, “Oh, I gotta go. Someone really important just came in.”
So, once again, our whole crew assembled at our house for Christmas Eve. We are truly blessed.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This column was first published in the Greenville Daily Advocate Dec.31, 2003.
To my friends and readers: As you may already know our eldest son, Bill D. Floyd, Jr. passed away just before Thanksgiving this year of 2018. Again I want to thank all of you for your prayers and thoughts for him and for all of us during that difficult time. I still believe we are truly blessed.
