A very memorable Christmas for me took place in 1951 when I was 10 years old. My mother took me to a Christmas Eve service at our church in Bluffton.
My mother did this with some trepidation, as I had a 4-year-old sister who would be staying home with my father. In my memory, my father had never taken care of me or my sister before and he was not a warm and cuddly type of person. Despite this, we went to church.
Upon arriving home, everything was peaceful and quiet. My father told my sister to show her mother what they had done while we were at church.
My sister went to our Christmas tree and picked up a shoe box wrapped in newspaper that contained several baby bottles.
She told my mother that dad had told her that there were a lot of babies in the world who needed these bottles and that it was time for her to give hers to them. My mother was really skeptical and told Dad that he would have to deal with her when she screamed for her nightly bottle. But not a peep was heard.
It was amazing that my father found a perfect solution to a problem they had been dealing with for a couple of years and gave a valuable lesson to my sister as well.