Coal for Christmas?

Now that its December my brain is having a hard time thinking about anything other than Christmas, family time, decorations, gift buying, gift wrapping, #LighttheWorld and all other holiday goodness. As I have been thinking about past Christmases and remising on my childhood I kept thinking about one Christmas where I was absolutely terrified.

It was when I was 12 and I was absolutely positive that I would be getting coal for Christmas. I remember that I was 12 because for my 12th birthday (on Dec 21st) I had a fun birthday party with family planned but it ended up getting cancelled because I was being disobedient and not doing the things my mom had asked me to do (such as cleaning my room). I guess it was just a rebellious year for me. I really don’t remember specifics but I recall a growing list in my mind of all the things I’d done that year that I shouldn’t have done and I felt guiltier and guiltier as each second passed. What kind of horrible child had I become?

I totally remember Christmas Eve night laying in bed utterly terrified. Santa was watching me all year and I was sure he was disappointed in me. I kept thinking about my little sisters – how ashamed of me would they be if their big sister, their example got COAL? I think that up to that point in my life I’d never prayed harder! I swore I’d change my ways and be a good girl for the rest of my life just puhleeeeease don’t let Santa bring me coal! Oh it was scary.

The next morning walking out to the Christmas Tree I almost didn’t want to look at my stocking. Surely it was filled with coal and my Christmas would be ruined.

But guess what? 

No coal. Santa apparently didn’t find me as naughty as I apparently thought I was that year. A Christmas miracle. I said a prayer in my mind – probably just saying THANK YOU a billion times. The weight of the world was off of my shoulders and Christmas was most certainly not ruined.

Thanks, Santa.



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