I wrapped my neck in a warm coat, but I could still feel the cold water seeping through my gloves. Holding my father's hand tightly, he said we were spending Christmas Eve at the Neighborhood Community Center. The lively sounds of people greeting each other filled the air as we navigated through the crowd. My father led me towards the kitchen, where we were about to serve meals to the less fortunate.
You wear this, he said. It will make you look much more festive!
My dad wore a Santa hat on his head and told me to put on a bright smile. Looking out at the main hall of the community center, I noticed a long line of people patiently waiting, many of whom looked exhausted and were dressed in tattered clothes. However, despite their hardships, their faces lit up with joy as we handed them hot food.
"Why are we doing this?" I whispered, careful to keep my voice low.
We are learning about the spirit of Christmas, my father replied. This is a time to give, and not just when you receive gifts from mom and dad.
Thousands of children like you have no home, my father continued. “But it’s not their fault. These children cannot open gifts, like you will, on Christmas morning. So, this is our way of helping people.
It’s one thing to know that, in theory. It’s another to serve warm meals to a child no older than me and wonder if he will have a roof over his head and a meal on the table tomorrow morning.
I forgot to ask his name. But I will always remember the smile on the boy's face when I handed him a plate of delicious food. As if all his troubles had vanished, and he was completely lost in the moment, ready to savor every bite.
I can't wait to do this again, I said, my voice trembling with emotion.
My father looked at me and said nothing. However, the pride in his eyes spoke more than words could. And, for the first time in my life, I felt like I understood the true meaning of Christmas.