I know that's not a jolly title, but it wasn't a very jolly Christmas. 

The year was 1986. It was the week of Christmas. In the early hours of Dec. 23, my mother awakened me, having discovered my father’s lifeless body on the floor of our home. He had gotten up during the night and suffered a heart attack before returning to bed.  

At that point, our holiday plans for last-minute shopping, wrapping, exchanging gifts and sharing Christmas dinner were replaced by choosing a casket, scheduling funeral arrangements and making sure dad’s best suit was cleaned.

Unwilling to hold the funeral on Christmas Day, we scheduled it for Dec. 26. In those days, and in our town, families didn’t host a brief visitation window of a few hours — they spent most of the day and much of the evening receiving family and friends. 

And so it was, that on Christmas Day, I found myself sitting with family members in the kitchen of the funeral home. Dreams of turkey and dressing no longer danced in our heads. We would spend the evening greeting friends and loved ones and snacking on sandwiches and doughnuts. 

But then, something unexpected happened.

As I sat in the kitchen of the funeral home, I saw a long-time family friend walk through the back door carrying a large box. She was followed by others carrying more items. As they placed containers of food on the kitchen counter, I walked over to thank them.

The family matriarch took my hand, looked me in the eye and said that no one should go without Christmas dinner. Therefore, she had brought the meal to us. In addition to providing Christmas dinner for her own family, this woman had cooked a whole hen, stuffing and a variety of down-home Southern favorites so that our family could have some semblance of the holiday comforts being enjoyed by much of the planet that night. It was still Christmas Day at the funeral home, but our sadness was now tempered with joy thanks to the kindness of others.

For years I've had the notion that some day I would return the favor for a random family. You know, pay it forward. This week, I contacted a local funeral director, but the unpredictability of what will happen in coming days makes it difficult to carry out my plan. He will keep me apprised — and as much as I'd like to finally carry out this random act — I hope there is no need. I hope no grieving family will be receiving friends at his funeral home in the days just before Christmas. But illness and suffering take no holidays, so a local hospital is my backup plan. 

Grief will touch many families this Christmas season. While the sting of death affects those left behind regardless of the day or time of year, grieving during the holidays is especially difficult. It carries the added weight of witnessing joy all around you but not being able to participate. My heart grieves for the families in Newtown. Conn. — families that will find little joy this holiday season. Perhaps some random souls will perform random acts to touch their hearts and restore their faith in the good of humanity. 

Recently, NBC journalist Ann Curry coined the #26Acts hashtag on Twitter in honor of the victims in Newtown. There's also a Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/26acts) dedicated to the random acts movement. Today, on the 26th anniversary of my father's death, I bought a Christmas bouquet and gave it to the sweet lady who does the cooking demonstrations at my local grocery store. I handed her the flowers and a card with "#26Acts. For Emilie Parker. For Newtown." Her face erupted into a huge smile. She almost cried and gave me a big hug. I wished her a Merry Christmas as I headed out with my grocery bags. It felt GOOD. I felt good. She felt good. It's exponential.

I hope we'll all look for ways to spread cheer to others this Christmas season. (And every single day!) We are all sojourners here together, all facing our own struggles. When we lift up each other, we lighten the burden for all. Your act of kindness doesn't have to be big, just heartfelt. Believe me, it can be the glimmer of light to someone surrounded by darkness.

Here's to many random acts of kindness — at Christmas time or any time. 

Have you received a totally unexpected gift that touched your heart? Have you performed a random act of kindness for someone else? Share your story in the Comments.

"A Christmas Story," reads the title on the faded sheet of notebook paper that I have gingerly removed from a small box that sits on my bedside table. As I unfold the creases to reveal the short story inside, I recall the night that I tapped it out on the keys of my brand-new typewriter.

I like to take out the piece of paper from time to time, unfold it and read it again. It demonstrates to me the power of words. Each time I take in those words, I am taken back to a long ago winter night when a little girl used her Christmas gift to create what would become a gift to her older self. And each time I read that Christmas story, I find a sense of comfort in my life choices and the inspiration to keep practicing what I love.

Why did I want the typewriter? I don't clearly remember. Perhaps I fashioned myself a budding writer even then. I remember viewing episodes of The Waltons and wistfully watching as John Boy, the aspiring writer, sat at his window in the evening light putting pen to paper. Back then, I had no way of knowing that writing would be my unique gift and become my life's work. Perhaps my mother saw a gift in me then that I had not yet realized myself. 

Recently, I was flipping through TV channels when a familiar face caught my eye. It was John Walton Jr. himself, after all these years, come to visit me again through the medium of television. Even now, I can hear the familiar refrains of the Waltons wishing each other sweet dreams. 

When I turn out the light on this December night, I will say a silent goodnight to the woman who gave me many gifts, including one that impacted my life in ways I could never have imagined. She was an angel then and is with the angels now.

Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, writers. Goodnight, readers. Goodnight, everyone.

Is there a Christmas memory from your childhood that still takes you back in time? Did you receive a special Christmas gift that impacted your life? Please share your thoughts in the Comments. 

Excitement filled the air in the third-grade classroom as students anxiously awaited the exchange of gifts on the last day of school before Christmas break.

One by one the teacher called each name and presented students with their gifts. There were exclamations of joy as each child tore away the wrappings to reveal their treasure inside.

When the last name had been called and the final gift passed from the teacher to the waiting hands of its recipient, the teacher stood smiling as she surveyed the jubilant scene in her classroom. Then she noticed the brown-haired girl with blue eyes sitting quietly at her desk with an awkward smile. The little girl was empty-handed; she had no gift.

Deftly the teacher declared that she had forgotten something and disappeared briefly into her supply closet. She emerged with a gift-wrapped package and called the brown-haired girl's name. "This is for you," the teacher announced as she smiled and proffered the package.

As the little girl accepted the gift, she wondered why her present was kept away from the others. But in that moment, it didn't matter. The box she held returned her to the fold of acceptance, her brief stint as an outcast having perhaps gone unnoticed, saving her the painful embarrassment of grade-school taunts.

The little girl began at first tentatively, then excitedly, to tear away the paper and ribbons. The wrappings fell away to reveal the smiling face of a doll inside the box. The little girl grasped the doll and began to arrange its hair and straighten its clothes. She looked around the room at her classmates and proudly showed off the doll while examining and commenting on the gifts of her peers.

I'm not sure when I fully came to realize what happened that day. And I will never know whether the child who drew my name forgot my gift, could not afford one or simply didn't like me. What I do know is that sometimes the true gift is not what's in the package. All these years later, I still remember what that gift meant to me — not the doll itself but how receiving it gave me a sense of belonging. To an embarrassed little girl, that's the best gift ever.

To Mrs. Baird, wherever you are — be it on this mortal coil or enjoying your just reward in the hereafter — I wish you a heartfelt Merry Christmas. You will forever be a doll to me.

Do you have a memory of a special Christmas gift? Whether you gave the gift or received it, I hope you'll share your thoughts and memories in the Comments below.

     

I hope the season finds you well and that you're feeling the excitement build as we approach the big day. While I have a minute in my hectic holiday schedule, I wanted to dash off my wish list for this year.

This year, could you please bring me the perfect Norman Rockwell Christmas? (Or I guess Martha Stewart will do.) I would like to have a flawlessly decorated tree with perfectly wrapped packages underneath. I want to set a stunning holiday table with a gorgeous handmade centerpiece. I'd like to find the perfect gifts, mail Christmas cards to everyone on my list and concoct yummy treats to share with my co-workers. Oh ... and elaborate decorations that will be the envy of my friends and neighbors would be nice, too. And could you sprinkle a little magic dust to help me write some perfect holiday blog posts in the next couple of weeks?

Santa, I realize this is a pretty tall order. Perhaps I should prepare for your inability to deliver. Maybe I should realign my expectations. The more I think about it, that Norman Rockwell image of Christmas does seem a bit unrealistic. It really is an illusion, isn't it? I mean, after all, life isn't perfect. I'm not perfect. And I guess the people in my life who really matter won't care if the pie I serve is store-bought instead of homemade. They'll still love me, right?

You know, Santa. I think I've just rewritten my Christmas list. Could you just send me an early gift of wisdom, patience and clarity? And throw in a dose of calm, if that's not too much to ask. Maybe then I'll be able to relax and enjoy the season. I guess I need to slow down, embrace the holiday and just take each moment as it comes. If I don't plan on what to expect, then I won't be disappointed!

Santa, I've decided to make a new list and check it twice. I will set aside time to do what I can, check off my completed items and just forget the rest. Wow, Santa. Writing to you has really helped me get my head on straight. What I really want for Christmas is to stop fretting and share the joy of the season with those around me. And, I guess the only person who can deliver that is me. Thank you, Santa. I think you've already sent that gift of clarity my way.

Merry Christmas!

Diane Hughes

P.S. I hope you won't mind if I don't have time to put out milk and cookies. I may be so busy enjoying Christmas with my family that I forget all about it!

I hope that we all take the time to enjoy the holiday season and embrace it — with all its imperfections. Do you struggle with trying to do it all during the holidays? Do you have suggestions for experiencing a stress-free, pressure-free holiday season? Please share your insights in the comments below.

P.S. to readers:
If you find yourself overwhelmed during the holiday season, this article from Mayo Clinic offers excellent tips for coping with stress and depression:
Stress, depression and the holidays: Tips for coping