I was an officer at a high school where it was a tradition to choose a sub for Santa family to take goodies to each year.  We lived in an affluent area, and really didn't know poverty.
        At school, we solicited donations all month and had all service clubs work with us. With advisors, we went shopping to get what we thought would make a nice Christmas for a family who had seven kids and "would love anything we could get them - especially socks or coats - maybe pillows." My family took this family too so they'd have a really nice Christmas, getting all they wanted, plus some.
        Teens running everywhere, filling carts with assigned sizes and gladness.  It seemed the guys picked toys that were noisy, the advisors chose for the parents, and pennies were counted.  My family came along to cover whatever was missed as well as purchased a tree and all the trimmings.  We had a wrapping party where we felt real joy.  My mom made some of the food to be taken, so the air was filled with yummy smells as well.
        On Christmas Eve, we went way back up into the snow covered hills glistening blue in the moonlight.  We weren't sure they were there until we saw a faint light in a shed-like building.  We passed it several times feeling it wasn't big enough to have nine people living there.  After sliding around more than we needed to (the guys wanted to do 360s), we saw a door open and someone waving to us.
        We entered this home that was no bigger than a shed.  There was a pot belly stove going  with no furniture.  We brought the tree in, and it was too big for the house( because they had to unroll their mats to sleep in that same room).  We asked them where the refrigerator was so that we could put the food away.  A small boy, about four, with huge brown eyes, led me through a curtain to a back door.  He told me to" look by the spout, there's our refrigerator! - every time it rains, or the snow melts, it runs off, onto our box, then freezes.  Neat, huh?!" I could hardly see out my eyes, the tears were clogging them.
        I pointed to the moon and wiped the tears.  I picked him up and asked him if he thought Santa was coming.   He hugged me and said, "he's already come." We joined the others inside who were decorating the tree with the family.
        My parents, upon seeing the dire circumstances, took the turkey and other things home with a promise to return with on Christmas day. Better still, they were invited to dinner at our home. They were thrilled, and we were humbled.
        We rode home in silence (quite a feat for eight seniors!) pondering upon the love, hope, and appreciation this family had with nothing! Taking what we took was not nearly enough, yet too much for this tiny, one-room home filled with laughter and excitement.
         I will never forget what I was taught by this little boy when he had me come over and sit on his mat so that he could show me what someone had brought him that made this "the best Christmas in his whole life!"  He very gingerly unrolled his mat to get out his cherished prize.  It was a soft-bound Book of Mormon.  He said, "This is Christmas every time you read it!  When I can read, I will have Christmas every day!"   They needed everything and yet had it all