A Paper Star

Paper Star

Sipping a cup of coffee one cold winter day, I sat in silence as the old timer shared a Christmas story. Sixty years had passed and the old timer never spoke of this particularly cold and lonely Christmas Eve. I looked into his sparking blue-green eyes and I was transported in spirit to a Christmas of his youth. The old timer spoke and I sat in silence sipping my coffee.

Sixty years ago, the old timer was just a small boy. A few years previously his mother died. The night of her funeral he started his first job. He knew if he was to eat that he would need to work.

His father was a man of intellect and unique ideas.  However, his father suffered from the terrible illness that we call addiction. Consumed by his addiction he left his eight motherless children to meet their own basic needs.

The old timer’s eyes glistened as he talked about being home alone on Christmas Eve. He went to the window and wiped the frost from the glass. He looked at the houses around him. Families were enjoying the holidays in their brightly decorated homes.

He stared out the window for the longest time remembering the joy he felt at Christmas when his mum would use her meager depression-era resources to make each of his brothers and sisters feel special. I could see his eyes moisten as the proud man held back a forgotten childhood tear.

The boy looked around his house. He was all alone on Christmas Eve. Loneliness made a drafty house feel very cold. He ran to the attic hoping to find his mother’s Christmas decorations. There were no boxes. As he began to cry, he noticed one lonely ornament. The old timer’s eyes widened as he said “The old gold paper star seemed to glow as it lay on the dusty attic floor.” He picked up the ornament holding it in his tender hands as tears dripped washing the dust away.

The boy raced down the stairs grabbing a bar of soap from the bathroom. He ran as fast as he could to the living room window. Using the soap to write Merry Christmas and draw snowflakes on the window, he started to smile. With special care, he hung the gold star from the window lock. A simple child brought the warmth of Christmas to his home.

“Hope”, the old timer smiled through pursed lips as he spoke. On that day, he knew he would be okay. His eyes sparkled as he proclaimed, “An Angel brought me a star of hope.” The old timer sipped his coffee and shared his story’s lesson, “I didn’t have much, but I had more than most because I had hope.” Hope became the foundation of his commitment to overcome his struggles. He learned to celebrate when he endured. He knew that hope would never disappoint.

The old timer poured a second cup of coffee. I sat their speechless. I just kept looking into the old timer’s eyes. My eye’s moistened as his grandchild jumped on his lap and said, “Merry Christmas Grampa.” I just whispered, “Merry Christmas Dad, I love you.”