This is not a story of great drama, but it changed my life — perhaps saved it.
At 43 years old I was very ill with an undiagnosed illness for a few years. My family was deceased, my friends long gone and I saw no one but health care workers a few days a week. Of course the disability payments kept me going but there were no extras. I was discouraged, exhausted, and so lonely.
Christmas came, though it was unlikely that I would have noticed it except for the knock at the door one day. I didn’t recognize the woman who came in and handed me an envelope with my name on it then quickly left. When I opened it, five $20 bills fell out.
There was a typed letter that said:
Hope you have a wonderful Christmas.
The money was welcome, yes, but the warmth I felt that someone (I had not a clue who) was thinking of me and cared meant the most. The world shifted a bit for me. Maybe things would turn out alright, I thought.
That was 20 years ago. I am still sick, pretty poor, but I live my life with as much joy and color and passion as I can. And whenever I am able, I slide an anonymous card, sweater, or CD to someone who has found a deep bottom.
I do this with gratitude for the opportunity to try to give back all that was given to me in that one envelope, from that special heart.
[Story submitted by Kathy Johnson]