The other day, Timmy and I were talking about Christmas’s past. It’s strange what memories are made, what things mean to us long afterwards, versus how sure we are that we are being wronged at the moment.
No one is perfect, and Timmy would agree his father wasn’t. (I never met him, I only know him through the stories I hear.)
This story gave me a totally different view of my father-in-law than the normal stories I’d heard.
He was a Greyhound bus driver, and often was on the road on Christmas morning. Timmy recalls more than one Christmas with his dad having driven the bus (sometimes even with passengers who agreed to a detour) and parked it in front of the house, early on Christmas morning, so he could be there with his kids while they opened Christmas presents–still in uniform– and ready to get back on the road 20 minutes later.
As a child, we might think, but Daddy is never here! As adults, we look back and see the sacrifices and the love that is deep inside, that makes us do the things we must…
(Happy birthday to my dear, dear husband!!!!!)