The Gift of the Migrant
Breaking with love
While living in Lorain, Ohio in 1980, my husband and I volunteered for the Clothe-A-Child program sponsored by the local newspaper. This program continues today. Churches, businesses, stores, organizations, and residents donate money year-round to clothe as many children in need as possible during the Christmas season. Volunteers complete the process by taking children shopping at local department stores.
We were directed to help each child choose warm, winter clothing. Permission was given to buy one small toy per child with our money but we were discouraged from spending more than that. The program gave us the names of Jose and Maria (names changed). They were ages 7 and 5 respectively.
We drove to their address, a rundown neighborhood just south of the downtown area, on the designated date and time. The two-story house was old and in disrepair. Porch boards creaked as we walked to the door and knocked. A pretty, pencil-thin woman with long dark hair and a baby in her arms greeted and invited us in.
The house was spotless inside and nearly empty. The only furniture was a small kitchen table with folding chairs where an older man and woman rested. A younger man sat on the bare floor with his back against the wall. Two young children raced into the room speaking to their mother in Spanish. She nodded and introduced us to Jose and Maria. They kissed everyone goodbye. Our adventure began.
The children jumped into the backseat of our car. We headed to the restaurant of their choice: McDonalds, and chatted while they ate Happy Meals. Jose did most of the talking. Maria was shy. They lived with their mother, father, grandma, grandpa and baby brother. Father was trying to find another job. It sounded like they were displaced migrant workers. The family’s dream was to move back where the weather was warm.
We arrived at the department store after supper. Jose and Maria beamed as they modeled the outfits, coats, hats, gloves and boots they had chosen. We invited them to pick a toy. Jose was overjoyed to locate the toy of the year: Rubik’s Cube. All his friends at school had them.
Maria chose a purse that included comb, brush, mirror and pretend makeup. She hung it on her shoulder and twirled merrily in front of the full-length store mirror.
They spoke excitedly to each other on the way home. Upon arrival they jumped out of the car with their purchases, thanking us again and again. Maria hugged the new purse to her side.
The Rubik’s Cube was nowhere in sight. I asked Jose if he had it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out many of the multi-colored small cubes that made up the larger Rubik’s Cube. He said, “Maria wanted to play with it too, so I broke it to share with her.”
I told him I didn’t think it could be fixed. He said, “I know, but it’s okay.” Maria opened her purse and gleefully showed me the rest of the pieces. Jose smiled and hugged her tight.
Jose and Maria are grown now. They probably have children and grandchildren of their own. I remember them as they were that night — shining souls with bright smiles radiating peace, joy, unconditional love — Christmas angels.
PostScript: My husband & I told friends about our shopping experience. They were touched by Jose’s generosity. We brainstormed and hatched a plan to assist the struggling family.
Everyone pooled funds to purchase and wrap gifts for family members including new Rubik’s Cubes for Jose and Maria. One couple donated gently used furniture, bought Santa & Mrs. Claus costumes, and decorated a fresh Christmas tree. Another couple cooked a complete Christmas dinner. Others filled large boxes with extra food for the pantry, and household goods.
On Christmas Eve just after dark, we quietly placed everything on the creaky front porch. Santa and Mrs. Claus knocked on the door. The rest of us stayed out of sight. As the door opened, Santa proclaimed, “Feliz Navidad!”
Jose, Maria, Baby, Mom, Dad, Grandma & Grandpa could not believe their eyes. Santa & Mrs. Claus hugged and cried with the family, then helped carry the Christmas bounty into the empty house.
