REMEMBERING A FRUGAL CHRISTMAS

Luky
For years I had opted to be a stay-at-home mom although I was a qualified shorthand-typist and could have been making good money for the family.
  In South Africa schools opened early in January and our six children attended private schools - sometimes three or four kids at the same time.
  January was the time for book-buying and registration. 
  Uniforms had to be upgraded and new shoes bought and one December we had a choice in that frugal year - either Christmas presents or school books.

  In later years I rejoined the bank of working mothers and from then on we could afford both books and Christmas gifts. 
  But that meant losing other benefits - being with the children all the time and having the privilege of watching them growing up and sharing their sweetness.
  Also giving them that je ne sais pas quoi quality that children whose mothers care fo them personally seem to have.
  As the older people used to say: "You can have anything in life you want - provided you're prepared to pay the price."
  To mix a metaphor: If I could put the clock back, would I have bitten the bullet?

  On a different tack: my granddaughter has been playing on my computer and as I type there is a little brown dog cavorting all over the page, simpering and blinking his pinpoint eyes at me.
  I wish I knew how to get rid of him.

When I was about thirteen, that same granddaughter's age, we in our family had a horribly frugal Christmas.
  My father, a baker, was allowed to bring  home two loaves of bread a day as part of his package, but we were new immigrants to South Africa and that day there seemed to be precious little else to eat.
  My mother believed that if there was nothing in the house you ate soup, bananas and rice.
  "Look how healthy people who eat this food are," she'd say.
We had a lot of soup, bread, bananas and rice in those years but it wasn't the fare you expected at Christmas.

  A knock came to the door and I opened it. A man stood outside.
  He said he and his family had come from far away to pay the people next door a surprise visit but they weren't at home.
  He asked if we would keep their gifts and take them next door when the neighbours arrived home.
  We carried the presents into the bedroom I shared with my sisters and placed them on the marble wash stand my mother had bought second-hand from an old Victorian lady who had sold up her home to move into a retirement place.
  One of the gifts was a Hansel and Gretel house cake.
  At various times during the afternoon I stole into the bedroom and pinched sweets and chocolates off the icing.

  Next morning I took the presents into the neighbours. They were delighted to receive them but too civilised to express their astonishment at the denuded cake which, squirming with guilt, I carried in last.
  I still remember the lady's expression of total astonishment as she looked at it and felt bitterly ashamed.
  Somehow I knew even then that one day I would write a story about it for people to read.
  Well here you are and I hope you don't think too badly of me.
  To the betrayed donors and recipients, most of whom are probably already in heaven, celebrating the eternal Christmas - Christ with us - I can only say: "Mea culpa, meal culpa, mea maxima culpa."

I regret to add that the little brown dog is still jumping around my computer page and has been chortling sarcastically at me. 

  Many things are possible, but surely he can't read?

Catherine Nicolette
Kids. They pinch sweets from cakes and don't always know the full story.
  Years ago Mom read the article I wrote about the time we as kids didn't get Christmas presents.
  She then told me the real reason behind the presentless Christmas.

  As a child, I had the perception we did not get Christmas gifts as an object lesson.
  It never entered my youthful mind that my parents struggled to shelter, clothe, feed and educate six of us.
  Today as I look at the astounding cost of living, I marvel at how well they managed, as well as the way they protected us as children from financial anxiety.

We might have had a frugal Christmas from time to time - but there was always a wealth of love . . .

GOLD FEVER IN MY HOME TOWN

Luky
SOME YEARS AGO MY HOME TOWN WAS IN THE THROES OF PREPARATIONS FOR ITS GOLD FESTIVAL.
  The feast which took many months and so much money to prepare was there one week and gone the next.
  The festival was arranged to promote the image of the city, which produced 21% of the world's gold and 46% of South Africa's gold output.
  Although the gold price had not reached the dizzy heights it did in previous years, you wouldn't have said so to see our town.
  Streets and roads were being built, huge business complexes rose like mushrooms, and those dusty stretches of veld which abounded when we first came to the town were becoming ever scarcer.

  Though I was constantly being told from the pulpit that materialism is the cardinal sin, my heart swelled to be part of such a progressive place.
  Not having the financial acumen of some of our peers, Sean and I never made our fortune there, though we saw others do so, but there was always enough to eat and wear for ourselves and our children.
  Maybe I'm just not very demanding but to me, that's riches.

Family first
In our home town there was work if not for every woman, certainly for every man.
  It was also one of the few cities in the country which has Catholic schools for both girls and boys and an active, bustling Catholic parish life.
  Now and then a turbulent sermon reminds me that I'm burying my talents in the ground, but if I thought that were true at the time I would have been on every committee going.

  I felt I had a job to do, and that my presence with my young family was infinitely more important than serving on committees.
  There is an age difference of sixteen years between our first-born and the youngest, and we paid monthly fees to the Catholic schools without a break since 1967. My husband, my youngest and I - and the Catholic schools - did not sign off until the end of 1994. Sean was then 61 and I 54.

Time of temptation
I hope that when I am judged on the matter of buried talents, God will count unflagging support of the Catholic school system in mitigation of my sins of omission.
 Speaking of schools, I know that in various places graduation farewells were held. 
  In some areas, the end of the graduation farewell at midnight marked the start of a big champagne breakfast which could go on until sunrise.
  Just how much strength and resistance to temptation do we expect our teenagers to possess?
  My children have always blushed for me because there have been times in their lives when they were the only ones in class who couldn't do what was allowed by other parents.
  Did I get sick of the recriminations? You betcha.
Yet did I mend my ways? Not a chance.
  If ever, God forbid, something bad had happened to my kids, I'd like it to have happened despite my vigilance.

Catherine Nicolette
Well now. Vigilance certainly was the keynote in our family.
  What Mom didn't see, Dad certainly did. Having heard from peers at school that they were free to come home and do what they liked - with funding from both working parents - I decided to try for a little freedom.
  Having spoken to Mom about the possibility of her getting a job, I mulled over her reply.
  She found raising us more fulfilling than a job. "Your father and I can't afford the luxuries, but I am here every day with a meal on the table, and can listen to how your school day went," said Mom. "That means more to me than a salary."

Well, I had to admit I enjoyed having Mom at home. The problem was that when Mom went out, Dad was at home with us. Zero freedom.

  So I spoke to Dad. "Dad, why don't you go for that nice job as supervisor?"
  Dad looked at me seriously. "Nog," he said, "With promotion comes added responsibility. At the moment I can finish my shift and come home to be with you all.
  If I apply for a supervisor position, I'll have to work evenings and weekends.
  I won't be able to spend as much time with your mom and you kids.
And," he concluded sincerely, "Being with you during your growing up years is the greatest joy I can imagine.
  After all, I had children because I wanted to be with them."

  I went away and pondered it all. Our family did not appear to value status and finances as priority: the family itself was the most important.
  I didn't really have a problem with that. 
What I did have the problem with was that we had no freedom to do what we liked.
  I guess it was called parental discipline. Looking back, I realise a great many teenage difficulties never came my way simply because the neighbourhood lads were very aware my dad was in the home, and the girls respected my mom.

  Years later, I have the same value system I learned that day from my parents. 
  Many of my peers have beautiful houses, steady finances, excellent career portfolio and management positions.
  I knock on from day to day, happy in the love of the Lord, financial state parlous at times and unwishful for a career climb.

  Sometimes I find myself wondering if I should not have been more responsible, and settled into a more planned career path.
  Then I think of the life Jesus led, calling us to follow Him in freedom and simplicity of life.
  He had no settled place to call His home, because every house he came to was His home.
  He had no personal family, because every person He met was His family.
  He had no career ambition, because He Himself was the epicenter of the entire universe.

  Following Him is the greatest joy of my life.
And - sometimes when I find myself wondering if I shouldn't have tried for a more wealthy lifestyle - I remember the glow in mom's eyes, and the sincerity in dad's, when they told a youthful me that the family's greatest wealth in the world is each other.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A BLESSED NEW YEAR TO OUR READERS

HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A BLESSED 

NEW YEAR TO OUR READERS