In the spring of 2002, within months of purchasing our dream home in Bronte Village, my husband Eugen was laid off.
I was a stay-at-home mom taking care of two small kids.
My husband had seen his colleagues being let go, and we had anticipated this eventuality when we were house-hunting. But in April, when the news became official, we knew we were in for a stressful time. We managed with whatever we had. As usual, the bills came first and the rest later.
I baked every day, trying to cut down on costs. We didn't eat out or go to the movies. I managed our grocery budget with an iron fist, so while we didn't eat as well as we would have liked, we always had "something" to eat. The children's well-being and needs came first.
Three years earlier, our son was born with Obstetric Brachial Plexus Injury. So, after that curveball, everything else we encountered was a home run.
Times were really tough, but we kept it to ourselves. We were proud and couldn't bring ourselves to ask for help. Only one close friend knew of our struggles. Tom would send us money, saying it was for the kids and not for us. "Thank you, Tom for your kindness" It meant so much to us.
After a few months, my husband found a great job. However, by then, we were playing catchup as with everything else. The mortgage payments were coming from our little leftover savings and the sale of wedding jewelry I had received from my parents.
Christmas time rolled around, and we were just hanging in. Our credit cards were maxed out, and my husband and I were still getting caught up with the bills.
But our children had been used to festive Christmas feasts with a huge Christmas tree and presents. We knew we had to tone it down this year. This wasn't how we'd envisioned our first Christmas in our new house.
A week before Christmas, my husband told me that we had $80 to spend.
We sat in our sparsely furnished living room and discussed the many ways to spend those $80.
There was a dilemma -- spend the money on the turkey, cakes, goodies and presents, which the kids were looking forward to? Or, should we spend it on a Christmas tree and presents?
Festive dinner or presents and a tree?
My little one, who had been eavesdropping, ran up to ask, would he get to go with daddy to pick out the Christmas tree?
After much antagonizing, my husband and I decided on the food and presents for the kids. My husband was going to explain to the kids, aged 3 and 7, that we would not be having a tree that year.
Just then, exactly then, the phone rang.
My husband picked up the phone -- it was our neighbour, Nigel. He was our former next-door neighbour, and after our move, he was now our across-the-street neighbour. "Hey Eugen, would you like a Christmas tree?" Nigel asked. "It's an expensive one. We used it twice. We haven't used it for the past few years because the cats kept pulling at the decoration. It's taking up space, and we wanted to know if you'd like to have it."
"We got our Christmas tree," said my husband.
As my husband dashed out, he grabbed his jacket and jumped into his sneakers (forgetting the three feet of snow).
Soon, Nigel's majestic seven-foot Barcana fir was standing tall in our new home, looking life-like with densely clustered green branches.
My kids were singing, "Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches."
We bought our food and presents for the kids and took time decorating our precious Christmas tree. We had one of the best Christmases ever. It snowed the entire day on Christmas Day 2002.
We felt joy and comfort in celebrating our first Christmas in our new home.
Our house turned out to be a great home. I grew up as a mom in this house, together with my children. We turned a house into a loving, fun-filled home. Over the years, we bought new cars and new furniture.
But with our Christmas tree, though, it was a different story.
The tree that was gifted to us at just the right moment was adorned with every Christmas ornament my kids ever made and souvenirs reminding us of stories from all the places we visited in the last 19 years.
The tree itself is now a story -- one day, I hope to tell my grandchildren.
Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones.
God Bless.
