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There’s that vase again. Linda gets it out every Christmas and displays it. What sweet memories. You see, in late December 1970, I had just finished my tour of duty as a marine in Vietnam. Military service had prevented us from spending our first Christmas together. Now we had a beautiful little nine-month old son and I was determined to make this Christmas a wonderful family experience.
I rented a small, furnished apartment in Fallbrook, California, near Camp Pendleton, where I was stationed and then headed back to Texas to retrieve my little family. I packed Linda and the baby and everything we owned into a 1968 Camaro and a small U-Haul trailer and headed west. My plan was to arrive in Fallbrook on December 22, have the utilities turned on and then enjoy our first Christmas together in our cozy little apartment. A good plan, but you know how “the best laid plans” often go.
I cracked the Camaro’s crank shaft coming over the mountains, and had to stop in a small town just inside California named Borrego Springs. The local mechanic didn’t have the replacement crank shaft and had to order it. It wasn’t going to take long to install it, but it was going to take a couple of days to get the part. A couple of days!
Well, it was off-season for tourists and the cheapest motel in town gave us a great rate for two nights. The afternoon of the second day, the motel owners felt so sorry for us they took us on a guided tour of the area and then bought us some hamburgers for supper. The mechanic finished his repairs on time and we were on our way. But it was already Christmas Eve! By the time we arrived in Fallbrook, it was too late to have the utilities turned on. So we sat in the cold parking lot of the apartment complex and I excitedly told Linda all about our apartment. But faced with no heat and no water, Linda said “No way!”
Reluctantly, I checked us into another cheap motel and got Linda and the baby unpacked and situated. Linda was great about the whole thing. There she was a thousand miles from home in a questionable motel with our precious baby on Christmas Eve. I was a broken man, so ashamed of how terribly I had provided for them. Fortunately, I found a store open and was able to get some supplies to make sandwiches. On the way back to the motel, I found a florist about to close up shop for the holidays. He was in the Christmas spirit and sold me two dozen long-stem roses for almost nothing. “Do you have anything to put them in?” he asked. “No sir” I replied. Taking a plain vase from under his counter, he said, “Here put them in this. It’s on the house.” I thanked him, put the roses in the vase and headed back to the motel. When I opened the door, I held them out to Linda and said, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this. I sure love you.” Our little motel room was toasty warm and she had decorated it for Christmas. The baby had been bathed and dressed in his pajamas and was playing on the bed. As she took the vase full of roses, her eyes filled with tears. She kissed me and said, “I love you too, Steve. Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. Now, take off your coat and let’s eat supper and have a Merry Christmas with our little boy.” At the time, it seemed like an awful experience. But now as I look back, it may be the most precious Christmas of our lives.
Ever since that night, when Christmas rolls around, Linda gets out that old vase I gave her, puts a cheerful Christmas arrangement in it and proudly displays it. Every time I see it, I’m transported back in time and ponder the treasured memories of our first “wonderful” Christmas together all over again.
I hope you have treasured Christmas memories of your own to reflect back on during this holiday season. Wonderful times. Joyful times. Family times. If so, take this opportunity to ponder them in your heart. Talk about them. Laugh about them. Perhaps even shed a tear over them. And above all, thank God for them.
