A belated thank you

A lesson from my mother

Adapted from my Christmas of 2020 column, published in the Mason City Globe Gazette.

When you call my paper’s local number, I’m often the one who picks up the phone. Some calls are news tips, some are complaints, and some are people turning to us as North Iowa’s paper of record to ask general questions which they reasonably believe we can answer.

The ones that always strike me as maybe the nicest callers, though, are those who are reaching out for help finding holiday assistance, as we were the previous stewards of the Christmas Cheer Fund.

I believe I have a little insight as to why those folks’ calls resonate with me.

Gratitude.

I grew up in a blended family in Mason City…

My dad lived in Des Moines, and when we visited, the pantry was stocked, the fridge was full, and he cooked three-course meals. Christmases there looked like a Toy-R-Us commercial. But my dad’s work took him all over the place, and my sister and I didn’t get to visit as much as we all would’ve liked.

At home in Mason, things were quite different from my dad’s house. There were measurable crests and troughs to our family’s budget. Sometimes we had steaks and corn on the cob and chocolate malts. But then there were times throughout the year we relied on the food bank. Times we drank powdered milk and ate sandwiches with government-issued cheese.

The Angel Tree in Willowbrook Mall in Mason City is decorated with the names of available children to shop for as their parents experience holiday hardship. I pick one boy and one girl each year I am able. Photo by Lisa Grouette

Christmases fluctuated too. Some were more bountiful, and some saw my mother turn to relief organizations to help fill the gap. Toys For Tots, Shop with a Cop, the Christmas Cheer Fund. Sometimes she’d also put our names on the Angel Tree in the mall.

But my mom was always upfront about our money troubles. She wanted us to learn how far a dollar could be stretched. We got jobs as soon as we were old enough — I was 14. I started paying for my own clothes and shoes. I paid my own school registration and bought my school pictures. I paid for my own gas and car insurance. All of us kids did. We were well prepared to move into adulthood.

Many Christmastime charity platforms are designed so the kids are none-the-wiser. They open their gifts with no suspicions their parents needed help that year.

However, my mother always made sure we knew when we were the benefactors of assistance programs. She was adamant during those times that we understood how the generosity of others played a direct role in us having food on the table or presents at Christmas.

The donated gifts were left unwrapped with only a name tag on it stating which organization it came from, lest we take these things for granted.

One year, we only had a couple gifts each, one of which was from an Angel Tree donor. It was easy to feel disappointed by the stark showing of boxes under the tree, especially knowing I’d return to school from the holiday break only to hear about the veritable mountain of presents my friends had received.

As I pouted, my mother told me something I didn’t realize then would change my outlook forever.

While there is a registration to keep track of the gifts, donors to the Angel Tree remain anonymous to their recipients. Photo by Lisa Grouette

“Lisa, a stranger went out and spent their money and time shopping for you,” she said. “They thought about what you might like for Christmas and wanted to give you something nice. They didn’t have to do that for you. They wanted to.”

She was right. But I was a bratty tween, and expressions of gratitude weren’t a part of my vernacular yet. It honestly wasn’t until my first Christmas on my own that those words truly made sense.

I’ll never understand what it’s like to be wealthy. I’m not sure I even want to. That the annual erection of a Tiffany-themed Christmas tree at Mason City’s The Music Man Square had once been touted as the denotation of the holiday season, while the Angel Tree is decorated with paper ornaments inscribed with the names of children whose families don’t make enough to even purchase a single ornament from Tiffany, highlights how vastly different our worlds can be.

Pulling names off of the Angel Tree as an adult has found me in clear understanding of the impact the charity of others before me really had. How it informed my ability to empathize and not judge other people. And moreover, how it allowed me to truly know what it was to be grateful — even if it took me a while to get there.

The kids I shop for are strangers yet I know them. I know what their struggles look like — how they feel around peers whose families have a comfortable budget and seem to be bursting through the roofs of their houses with high-end trappings.

I know these kids’ parents too. The exhale of relief that leaves their tense lungs when they receive the assistance they need. The appreciative pitch of their voice as they thank the person handing them their box of gifts is unmistakable.

Gratitude.

So, if you’ve ever “adopted” a family, plucked a name from an Angel or Giving Tree, donated to Toys for Tots, sent money into the Cheer Fund, or found another way to be charitable, thank you. Truly. You don’t know what a difference you’re making.

A very belated thank you as well to the stranger who bought me the striped terry-cloth tracksuit (which I ended up loving and wore nonstop) that led to my mother handing over to me a pretty profound and lasting lesson in selflessness. And gratitude.

Lisa Grouette is a proud member of the Iowa Writers Collaborative, a group of Iowa writers, authors, and content producers. If you enjoy hearing from Iowa voices, please consider helping to broaden their reach with a paid subscription. Your support goes a long way.