I have a Christmas memory that I would like to share with you. The year was 1982 and my 2 daughters and I were at that time with my second husband and his 2 sons. We were living in Alberta Canada on a corner called Connamera Corners near a little hick town called Nanton, about 50 odd miles from Calgary.

We had been through a rough time because I had left my husband and returned to Ontario for a bit and he had convinced me to come back to Alberta. We had almost nothing. My husband was very abusive with me (never with my daughters) and I rarely spoke when my husband was home unless spoken to in case I said something I should not say. 

My daughters were 11 and 8 and his boys were 11 and 8.  I had left everything behind once again to start fresh as my husband at the time called it. We had very little furniture. Everyone slept on mattresses on the floor and orange crates made perfect little tables. We did have an old TV that sat on top of an orange crate. The floor was the place to lay to watch TB or write or read.

Well Christmas season came and we had nothing. I was wringing my hands and close to tears all the time because I did not know what my kids were going to do without Christmas. There was a neighbour across the road and up a field and their names were "Paula and Stan Barry". Very nice people.

They knew my situation and they knew the abuse I lived under and the fact that the money my husband made barely covered rent and food. They also knew my children would have very little for Christmas other than what they would get from their biological father (who never forgot or let them down at Christmas) and what my Mother would send.

We got up on Christmas eve and on our doorstep was a Christmas tree and a box full of groceries. There were 2 chickens and oranges and potatoes and 3 bags of cranberries and 3 loaves of bread and other goodies. We knew that it was the "Barry's" that had left it although they never did admit it.

We did not have decorations and so my kids strung cranberries and I made some popcorn that had come in the hamper from the food bank or the church and they strung that as well. They wrapped their beautiful creations around the tree and then found scissors and paper and made cut out ornaments. That was a beautiful tree! They brought home decorations that they made in school and decorated the living room. How beautiful it was and every time I looked at it the tears would threaten to fall. Each of the 4 kids had made me little gifts in school and in church for Christmas. They were so beautiful!! Coloured pictures and little paper ornaments that I still have.

Well, we stuffed those 2 chickens and we cooked a bag of cranberries and potatoes and we had a wonderful Christmas dinner. The kids sang Christmas carols and they laughed and played with the gifts from their biological father and my Mother and the few little things I had managed to buy or make. They wrapped the scarves I had knit for each of them around their necks and put on the new snowsuits they got from my Mother and went outside to play. You would think that they had the best Christmas ever by the way they acted.

I went to my bedroom and cried a river so they would not see. I swore that day that Christmas would always be a special time in my home. Why? Because my children made it that way.