Hope

I started to cry on my way to work this morning.

It was 97.1's fault.

I flipped to the station right as they were doing a "Secret Santa" segment- a part I have previously always skipped because it sounded, well... boring. 

A girl (Mandy) was at the station who had put in a Secret Santa request for her friend (Hayle) and her family. Hayle's dad died in a car accident this summer, leaving behind a wife a four children under the age of fifteen.  The family has been struggling coping with the grief, dealing with no life insurance, struggling to find work, etc.

So right there at 7 am, do you know what that clever station 97.1 did?  They called up Halye's mom to tell her that her family had been chosen to be recipients of a Secret Santa.  No one answered the home phone the first two tries, so then they called Hayle's cell phone.  She was clearly still sleeping.  I was laughing so hard at the radio announcer, Frankie, because he could not have made the phone call seem more strange, "(In deep raspy voice) Hello Halye, how you doing?" 
"Uh.... fine...."
"Halye, we need to speak to your mother."  I don't mean to criticize, but Frankie could really work on the way he introduces himself to strangers on the phone at 7 am. 
"My mom is sleeping..."
"Will you go wake her up?"
And so she did.  You could hear the teenager walking through the house and then shaking her mom awake.

Finally the mom came to the phone.  Frankie informed her that she was the recipient of a Secret Santa.  At first that poor mom was so confused, but slowly she came to understand what was going on.

The best part was when Frankie said, again in that deep raspy voice,
"Go open your door.  There are two people waiting for you."

By this point you could hear that the kids were all awake and trying to figure out what was going on.

Mom opened the door.
And in came the gifts.

As they brought in the gifts, Frankie announced what was being given: clothes, gift cards, food, music, shoes, games, etc.  He listed about four or five gifts for each of the children.

As he was doing this you could hear the mom crying and the kids celebrating in the background.  The excitement was almost tangible.

When Frankie asked the mom how her Christmas shopping had been coming, she replied, "I haven't done a stitch.  It just makes me too sad; I can't do it.  Life turns on you so fast, and I just can't keep up."

And then she said, probably a thousand times,  "Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you."

And I couldn't help it.  I just joined in on the crying.  I could just imagine the excitement of the kids, waking up to see strangers bringing in loads of presents.  Going to school that day and not being able to concentrate because of what was waiting for them at home.  Seeing the gratitude and the joy on their mother's face.

I'm having a hard time expressing exactly how this story affected me.  Something about the way the mom said thank you, or the way the radio station people waited outside her door in the cold, or the way the daughter walked to her mom's room at 7 am to wake her up, something about it all just deeply affected me.  And I felt selfish and ungrateful for complaining about Christmas decorations and caramel apples.  Because none of that really matters.

It just goes to prove.  You start thinking the whole world is full of people who cut you off in traffic and butt in line and lie about their homework assignments and then something like this happens and proves you wrong.

It almost gives you hope in humanity.

In case you were wondering, I did get the Christmas decorations up.
Lime green+Christmas tree+ Mexican sign= holiday bliss.

The stockings are hung by the curtains with care.
Of course, you wouldn't know, because Hubs is blocking them with his hands
due to his pure excitement