FanStory.com - Share The Joy!by Begin Again

It was the last day before Christmas vacation, and Miss Holland's classroom buzzed with chatter. The children shared cookies and glasses of punch, played Pin the Nose on Rudolph, and made snowflake ornaments. It had been a fun day.

The clock was ticking down the final minutes before the bell. Miss Holland tapped her pointer against the chalkboard. "Children, please settle down. Class isn't over yet. We have one last lesson for the day."

Her students raised a series of moans and groans, but she smiled at them and said, "It's a simple one. What does Christmas mean to you?"

The room was filled with the excited chatter of six and seven-year-olds, their hands raised high, eager to share their Christmas plans.

"My dad's getting my mom a new car, and he said I'm getting something HUGE!" blurted Emily.

"We're going to Disney and staying in the resort!" chimed Peter. "I think it's the Animal Kingdom. I might even sleep with a giraffe."

The children oohed and aahed. Of course, his close friends teased him and said it would probably be a monkey, just like him.

Around the room, the children shared tales of big-ticket gifts, lavish plans, and shiny surprises.

Then, it was Timmy's turn. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His family didn't have money for gifts or even a tree. His mother worked double shifts so they could keep the lights on.

Miss Holland urged Timmy to share his plans for Christmas, but he shook his head. Finally, after several requests from his teacher, he muttered, "How would I know what Santa will bring?" His face turned red. "It's not all about getting things. We don't have a tree, so where would Santa put any gifts?"

Katie, a bubbly blonde girl with a kind heart, noticed Timmy's nervousness. She jumped in, her voice soft but confident, "He's right. Christmas is about love and sharing. It's nice to get gifts, but —"

Her words were cut off by the class, erupting into laughter and chatter.

"Yeah, like the PlayStation I'm getting!"

"And the hoverboard under my tree!"

Katie stood up with a determined look in her eyes. She was about to set things right. "Miss Holland, tell them! Christmas is about the birth of Jesus and how we're already blessed. It's not just about Santa Claus."

Miss Holland hesitated. The administration had instructed the teachers to avoid religious discussions in class. She smiled gently. "Christmas means many things to different people. But it should always be a time of joy, kindness, and happiness. Now, gather your things — the bell's about to ring."

*****

On Saturday, Katie couldn't stop thinking about Timmy. As the granddaughter of a Christmas tree farmer, she knew her family had plenty of trees to spare. She had an idea.

After visiting her grandfather's tree lot, Katie arrived at Timmy's house, pulling a red wagon. On it was a small, perfectly imperfect Christmas tree. She'd brought colored paper to make a chain, a box of ornaments, and a string of lights her mom said they didn't need.

Timmy's eyes widened when he saw her. "Katie, what are you doing here?"

"I brought you a tree," she said. "You can't have Christmas without a tree."

Timmy hesitated, glancing back at his house — a small, weathered building with peeling paint. "You — brought me — a tree?"

"It's small because I didn't know how much room you might have for the tree." Katie glanced at the house and then smiled at Timmy. "Come on. Help me untie it from the wagon. I think it's just the right size."

Timmy hesitated, embarrassed that his house was so small. "Umm — my mom's not home."

"That's even better. You can surprise her when she gets home. I brought ornaments and paper to make chains and snowflakes, too."

Timmy stepped outside, glancing back at the front room. "It's not much, Katie. I didn't want anyone from school to see."

Katie ignored his protest and marched inside. Seeing the sparsely furnished living room made her heart ache, but she said nothing. She set the tree in a corner and handed Timmy the paper. "It's — cozy. I like the Christmas Afghan on the sofa. My grandmother crocheted one like it. We always have it out at Christmas." She twirled around as Timmy set the tree in the corner. Katie's grandfather had attached a stand to the base.

"Let's make a chain to decorate it!"

As they cut and looped strips of paper, Timmy sighed. "The worst part isn't the tree or the gifts. It's my mom. She works so hard, Katie. She deserves the best, and I can't give her anything."

Katie's face lit up with an idea. "You don't need money to give her something special. Let's make her a gift she'll never forget."

Timmy raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"A box!" Katie said. "We'll get one behind the grocery store. Inside, you can put a note that says it's filled with hugs and everlasting love. Isn't that what moms want?"

Timmy frowned. "That's — kinda dumb."

But Katie's enthusiasm was infectious. She grabbed a pencil and started sketching. "Look! You can write that she gets free refills every day. It'll be the gift of a lifetime!"

Timmy smiled for the first time that day. "I guess she is always saying our love is enough." He thought for a moment. "Okay, let's do it."

The two spent the afternoon laughing and making decorations. Timmy suddenly felt like he wasn't all alone anymore. He'd gained a friend — a very special one.

*****

Christmas morning dawned cold and bright, but it was still and quiet inside Timmy's house. The little tree Katie had brought stood proudly in the corner, decorated with colorful paper chains and a few ornaments. Timmy's mother smiled through her tears when she saw the tree, but Timmy was still worried it wasn't enough.

A knock on the door startled them both. Timmy ran to open it and froze when he saw Katie standing there with her family. Her dad held a large roasting pan, and her mom carried a tray piled high with covered dishes. Katie's older brother had a basket of bread, and Katie herself clutched a plate of cookies.

"Merry Christmas!" Katie's family called out to Timmy and his mom.

Her mom smiled. "We were supposed to have dinner with my sister and her family, but they've come down with the flu. We couldn't eat all this ourselves, and Katie thought your family might like to share it with us."

Timmy's mom looked overwhelmed, her cheeks flushed with surprise and embarrassment. "Oh, that's so kind, but —"

"There's no buts on Christmas," Katie's dad said warmly. "We're all neighbors here, and Christmas is better when it's shared."

There was a moment of silence, the air heavy with unspoken feelings, until Katie's brother pulled out his phone. A familiar melody filled the room as "Jingle Bell Rock" began to play.

Timmy grinned, and his mom laughed lightly, wiping her eyes. "Well, if you're sure, come on in."

Before long, the tiny house was filled with laughter, clinking plates, and Christmas music. Katie's family had brought everything — turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and dessert. Timmy watched as his mom, usually so tired, smiled and chatted, her worries forgotten for a little while.

Timmy found Katie in the kitchen, helping her mom unpack the last of the dishes. Without a word, he wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you," he whispered. "This is the best Christmas ever."

Katie hugged him back, smiling. "I told you Christmas isn't about stuff. It's about love and sharing."
*****
As Katie's family bundled up to leave, Katie paused at the door, her eyes twinkling. "Merry Christmas, Timmy!"

Timmy blushed and said, "Merry Christmas, Katie." His cheeks were still warm from the hugs and laughter of the day.

*****

When the door closed, the house was quiet again. Timmy turned to see his mom standing by the fireplace. Two stockings hung there, each with a bulge at the bottom — the orange and candy canes. She smiled softly and reached into her apron pocket, pulling out a small box.

"This is for you," she said, handing it to him. "It's not much, but it belonged to your dad. He'd have wanted you to have it."

Timmy's fingers trembled as he opened the box, revealing a simple, well-worn watch. He traced the edges of the face and the band, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's perfect, Mom," he whispered.

He threw his arms around her, holding the watch tightly against his chest. "Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's warmth, the glow from the small Christmas tree reflecting in their eyes. Outside, the snow fell softly, blanketing the world in quiet peace.

And for Timmy, it indeed was the best Christmas ever.