"The Christmas Tree" Wish Never Granted

 This is a revisiting of a blog post first published in December of 2013. Even though Mother was an only child (she dislikes the stereotype associated with her status), at 96, she continues to live as a caring, compassionate person with a grateful heart.

   Wishing, wishing, wishing, with all her heart but to no avail. That phrase described my mother’s yearly experience at the annual Christmas Tree at Belford School.

   My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, attended first through eighth grade at Belford School. Belford, located on the east side of the Big Bend, was always considered the smaller school since Woodland (not to confused with the present-day consolidated district serving Ralston and Fairfax) in the west part of the Bend had a three-room building and a larger student population. How hard to believe that little two-room Belford School in the Great Depression had over seventy students!

   In rural schools like Belford, the Christmas Tree was an annual event in the first half of the twentieth century. The performance of the Christmas program by the students from first through eighth grades kicked off the evening. The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated with presents the parents had brought for their children, and the children could hardly wait for their individual names to be called so they could receive their present from the "tree."

    As a little girl, Bernyce wished and hoped to hear her name called and see a hand take one of the beautiful dolls from the tree and hand it to her. This wish was never granted - first of all because Mother never told her parents of her secret wish. Secondly, her mother, Gladys Rainey Smith, was far too practical and cautious for my mother to receive a doll from the Christmas Tree. My grandmother feared little Bernyce’s gift would be stolen or lost. In the 1930s, all things (including food and clothing) were precious and hard to come by--not to mention something so extraordinary as a doll for Christmas. She and Grandpa Calvin just couldn’t take that chance of having an extravagant gift stolen or lost since they knew it would spoil their little girl’s Christmas, and they could not afford to replace it.

    My grandparents had gotten her a doll when she was four or five. It had real brown hair and its eyes would open and then close when she laid it down to sleep. Mother’s excitement peaked when she realized this 18-inch doll could walk when she held its hands. She treasured this doll for many years. Children of the Great Depression learned quickly to vigilantly care for anything they called their own.
   Even as she got older this doll held a special place in her heart and in her small collection of keepsakes; her doll was a precious possession until one day she looked north from their home on the Jefferson lease and was horrified to see the home of the Peters family (incidently located on what is now my mother's place) engulfed in flames. Her heart ached with empathy for the little girl in the family named Bethelea. Little Bethelea was younger than my mother. Almost immediately my mother knew what she wanted to do. She pulled her treasured doll from her small collection of keepsakes and at the first opportunity, gave her doll to the little girl who had lost everything.   

Bernyce Smith Gates (top) and
 Bethelea Peters Myers (bottom)
taken from the 1934 Belford
School Group Photograph

   Isn’t that what Christmas is about? God gave to us His very best because of our dire need for a Savior. Mother saw how desperately a little girl needed a doll to help provide security and comfort since her family had lost everything. Mother never got her wish to receive a doll from the Belford School Christmas tree, but her compassion and generosity prompted her to give freely to little Bethelea who must have so wanted a doll to cuddle. Mother didn’t receive a doll the way she wished from the community's Christmas Tree, but she did receive a life-long memory of the blessing of giving. After all, Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At Christmas, many of us give to others less fortunate or with needs out of our abundance or give what we have no attachment to and are wanting to discard and never experience sacrificial giving. When I think of the phrase "give until it hurts" I am reminded of this story and the generosity and sacrifice of a little girl--my mother.

Christmas Eve, 2020

As we discussed this incident, Mother mentioned something she had never discussed. She said she didn't think her mother wanted her to give the cherished doll away. Then she added, "But she didn't try to stop me. She knew I was giving from my heart."