Many Christmas gifts are so unpredictable that it takes, in some cases, many years to appreciate their true value. Christmas 1981 was my first Christmas away from home. Six months earlier I had left Utah to serve an LDS mission to Detroit. During this time, I was living in a city with great economic diversity. While some were quite well-off, many were close to poverty. During this time, all I could think about was what my family must be doing to prepare for the holidays.

As Christmas approached, I was excited one day to return to our apartment and hear the telephone ringing. A prominent member of our congregation was calling to invite us to their home for Christmas Eve dinner. What a wonderful invitation! I hung up the phone excited to share the good news with my companion. He interrupted me to say that earlier in the day, he, too, had accepted a Christmas Eve invitation from another member of our congregation, Mrs. Dombrowski.

Faced with a difficult decision, we began to analyze our dilemma. We decided that we would kindly call Mrs. Dombrowski and apologize that we could not accept her invitation. The prominent family always treated the missionaries well. Conversely, Mrs. Dombrowski was a poor widow living in a tough side of town in very humble circumstances.

We finally decided that we would arrive early to the Dombrowski home, visit quickly and then slip away to enjoy a nice Christmas dinner with the other family. Christmas Eve came quickly. Instead of arriving early at Mrs. Dombrowski's home, we arrived almost a half-hour late. Reluctantly, we rang the doorbell. In an instant, she met us at the door. We apologized for our tardiness. She told us that she had been concerned that something had happened to us. In the corner of her living room stood a large oak tree branch. It was decorated with a strand of popcorn and had silver icicles that had been carefully placed on its dull brown branches. A few broken ornaments adorned the front of the tree. The aroma coming from the kitchen was unfamiliar to me. She had baked a Spam casserole. I thought to myself, "We are giving up our Christmas Eve for this!"

After dinner, Mrs. Dombrowski sang us Christmas carols at the accompaniment of an old player piano that was seriously out of tune. As she sang, my thoughts reflected upon my family, how they were gathered together participating in a similar activity. After only a few moments, I expressed to her that we would need to leave soon. I still remember the disappointed look on her face. She asked if we could stay for just another few minutes. We hesitantly said yes. She then rushed out of the room.

After a few anxious moments, the doorbell rang. As we opened the door, the sound of Santa's "ho ho ho" permeated the air around us. In the house walked a 5-foot elderly Santa Claus. Mrs. Dombrowski had planned this out well. She would excuse herself for a moment, put on a Santa costume that was made for someone a foot taller, sneak out the back door and ring the bell. There she stood in the doorway with a pillowcase over her shoulder. She sat us down and pulled open her sack.