Growing up in a small Nebraska town, Christmas always held a special tradition for my family. Every year, we participated in the Angel Tree program, a heartwarming initiative that allows people to sponsor children of incarcerated parents. I cherished the feeling of selecting a child’s tag and carefully choosing gifts, knowing we were bringing a little Christmas joy to a child who might otherwise miss out. Dropping off those packages, destined for a prisoner’s child, always filled me with a unique sense of purpose.
As life got busier, my involvement with the Angel Car Program – as I sometimes thought of it, imagining angels delivering gifts – became less consistent. Finding a convenient Angel Tree location wasn’t always easy. However, motherhood rekindled my desire to instill the values of compassion and generosity in my own family. I wanted my son, Jackson, to witness firsthand the impact of helping others.
In early Advent of 2013, I eagerly anticipated picking an Angel Tree tag at our church. Determined to be early this year, unlike the previous year when all tags were gone, I wanted Jackson and me to be among the first to choose. This year felt particularly significant. Jackson, at three years old, was finally old enough to actively participate in selecting the tag and presents, marking the beginning of a new tradition for us. But beyond that, I had a deeply personal reason for wanting to give back.
Our family was yearning for joy that Christmas season. Just months prior, we had experienced the devastating loss of our baby boy, Nicholas, who was stillborn. His twin sister, thankfully, brought immense light into our lives, yet even amidst the delightful sounds of a newborn at Christmastime, the absence of our little angel was keenly felt.
Toy Cars: A Simple Wish
Jackson and I walked hand in hand towards the Angel Tree, adorned with tags representing children’s Christmas wishes. We browsed through a few before one tag caught my eye: “toy cars.”
Turning to Jackson, I asked, “We can handle toy cars, can’t we?”
Saying Jackson loved toy cars was a massive understatement. He had amassed a collection from friends, family, and coworkers, each car cherished and played with extensively.
While a new matchbox car might only cost a dollar, and accessories would be easy to add, the simplicity of the wish struck me. It was this very simplicity that tugged at my heartstrings. A pang of sadness washed over me. I took the tag, committing to fulfilling the wish for “toy cars” for a 4-year-old boy.
Sir’Nicolas: An Unexpected Connection
As I returned to my seat, Jackson, ever the social butterfly, was already ahead, greeting fellow churchgoers. Settling in, I decided to re-examine the Angel Tree tag.
I reread, “Boy, age 4, toy cars, name Sir’nicolas.”
I froze, my gaze fixated on the name. ‘Did it really say Nicolas?’ I nudged my husband, passing him the tag like a secret note in class. This child shared a name, incredibly similar to our little angel, Nicholas.
During the church service, I needed to step out of the sanctuary briefly with my three-month-old daughter. I decided to use this moment to inquire with the Angel Tree volunteers about Sir’nicolas. I needed to confirm I wasn’t misreading the name.
Perhaps my approach was a bit blunt as I asked, “Is this boy’s name seriously Sir’nicolas?” I didn’t intend to sound insensitive, but what I truly meant was, ‘Is this boy’s name really Nicolas?’ The volunteer kindly checked the paperwork, confirming, indeed, it was Sir’nicolas.
I then shared our story of losing our baby Nicholas and expressed my belief that this tag was more than just coincidence. The volunteer, aware of our family’s story within our close-knit church community, immediately understood. She embraced me warmly, her words resonating deeply.
“That,” she said gently, “is what we would call an Angel Wink.”
Finding Joy in Giving
Shopping for Sir’nicolas’ gifts transformed into an experience far more meaningful than ordinary Christmas shopping. It became a deeply personal mission. I sought out the perfect toy cars, carefully selecting wrapping paper, wanting to ensure Sir’nicolas experienced a truly special Christmas.
Perhaps Sir’nicolas won’t remember his fourth Christmas, or the specific gift of toy cars he received years later. But I will forever cherish the profound joy I discovered in making little Nicholas’ Christmas brighter through this act of giving, a testament to the unexpected connections and gentle reassurances found within the Angel Tree program, a true angel car program in spirit.
