This time of year was hard for me, but at least I wasn’t doing last-minute shopping at the mall. It wasn’t the stress of searching for just the right gift. December marked the anniversary of the death of my young daughter, Bridget.
As the anniversary approached, my sadness deepened. The last thing I could imagine facing was a bustling crowd of shoppers at a mall, but I had friends and family to consider. I’d finished my gift list in August.
I will make it through another Christmas, I told myself as I sat down on the couch to watch the news with my son Dan. With God’s help I know I will make it.
“Shoppers all over the country have their eyes set on a new toy,” the anchor said. “Tickle Me Elmo.”
A photo of a red plush toy with a happy grin appeared in the upper-right corner of the screen. A caption read, “This Season’s Hottest Trend.”
As the report continued, Dan and I watched footage of shoppers in long lines at stores and jammed into auction halls all across the country. Everyone wanted to get their hands on a Tickle Me Elmo.
I thought about the unopened box sitting in my closet. The one I hadn’t looked at since August. “I have one of those toys. I bought it this summer, not sure who I’d give it to.”
Dan looked at me sadly. He knew I was imagining just how much Bridget would have loved the toy.
“You could make some money on that toy,” Dan said.
I shook my head. “I can’t sell it. It’s Christmas. It should be a gift. For a child who would love it as much as Bridget would have.” But I hardly had the energy to think of who that might be. Now I wasn’t even sure why I had bought that Elmo at all.
I went through the motions, making holiday preparations, but the season would never again hold the kind of magic it once did for me. On the morning of December 21, the anniversary of Bridget’s passing, I got up wondering how I would survive the day.
While having a cup of coffee, my son Matt came in and sat with me. Just his quiet presence was a comfort.
“I heard you have a Tickle Me Elmo toy,” he said.
“Your brother suggested I sell it, and I will not do it. It’s Christmas.” It was Christmas—even if sadness kept me from feeling the Christmas spirit.
“Let me explain,” Matt said. He’d taken his TV to the electronics shop to be fixed, and heard the owner asking every customer if they knew where to find a Tickle Me Elmo for her granddaughter. It was all the child wanted.
The owner had entered raffles, combed newspapers, asked customers’ help for days. She couldn’t find a Tickle Me Elmo anywhere.
Lord, is this why I bought that Tickle Me Elmo? Did an angel nudge me to buy it for a little girl I didn’t even know?
I couldn’t have another Christmas with Bridget on this earth. To see her smile when she opened her presents. But maybe I could give that joy to another little girl. Perhaps, by some small miracle, I’d bought the toy just for her. “Matt,” I said, “how’d you like to go for a ride?”
I got the toy from the closet. Matt grabbed his keys. We drove to the electronics shop with me feeling a hint of Christmas spirit. This time of year would always be hard, but it was less hard knowing I was chosen to be a little girl’s Christmas angel. And that felt like no small miracle to me.
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