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Dear Shiloh Family,

Every year Dad would play the game, and every year, one of the three of us would crumble under his sly tactics. From the time we could talk, when presents mysteriously appeared under our live Christmas tree, he would inquire as to which gift was his biggest and best. To no avail, Mom would plead for us not to spill the beans. 

“This one is the best, Dad. We all got it for you, but we’re not telling you what it is.” 

“Awe come on.” He would pry. “Just give me a little hint.”

“Stop it, Paul! Don’t do it kids.” Mom would scold.

We would snicker and shake our heads confidently. “Nope.”

Then it would happen. Our Father would examine the package, shake it lightly, smell it, listen to it as if it were a ticking time bomb, and proudly blurt out the proposed contents. My siblings and I would laugh hysterically and inform him he wasn’t even close. After several off-the-wall guesses, Dad would get close, or more times than not, nail it on the head. 

Now at these times we faced quite a quandary. Would we lie, and say he was wrong, or tell the truth and give away the Christmas secret? Our eyes would become saucers, three mouths would gape open like caves in a hillside, and laser-like glances would be directed at our frustrated mother. Inevitably, one of us would whine, “Mom”, or even worse, we would stare bug-eyed at Mattlock/Paul/Benedict Arnold and exclaim, “How did you know?” At which point, your former Pastor would dance and strut around the room as if he had just won the World Series. The following days before Christmas would be filled with all of us children mimicking our father in the art of gift investigations. However, as far as I can remember, Dad never cracked nor revealed the contents of one single package. This is a ritual that has been repeated by my brother, sister, and me with our children. 

Can you imagine being robbed of that experience? Close your eyes and picture a young boy not having the privilege of anticipating a BB gun, sneakers, or a Braves hoodie wrapped neatly under the tree. Think about a pigtail laden little lady never ripping the paper off a shoebox revealing the latest Barbie. I can’t wrap my mind around the thought of no possibility of a sleepless Christmas Eve of a child dreaming of a new bike nor the joy of newfound bundles on Christmas morning. 

Shiloh, thanks to you, at least 80 kids will not have to experience a Christmas without presents. Thanks to you, a community will experience the love of a church. Because of you, a church exemplifies the Christ in Christmas. 

I know I say this every year, but I wept when I saw the entire hallway lined on both sides with yuletide treasures. There are also several other acts of selfless giving that remain anonymous. My heart is overwhelmed with joy for the families who will be touched by your generosity.

Christmas becomes Christmas when the “mass” learns to give like Christ. 

God bless you all,
Pastor Derrell