The Favorite Christmas Gift

Over the past four plus years now, my wife Leslie and I have been teachers in the Primary Organization of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints.

Those unfamiliar with the organization of our Church, let me present I short tutorial. The Church does not have a paid ministry. Members are asked to serve in the various organizations that comprise each local congregation, which we call Wards.

There is the Primary, for children from 18 months to 11 years. Then the Young Men’s and Young Woman’s organizations for the 12 to 18 year olds. There are youth and adult Sunday School programs as well as Priesthood Quorums for the adult men, and The Relief Society for the adult women.

So back to the story… Each week we prepare a 40 minute lesson on a particular gospel subject. This year we have the eight going on nine year olds, and the topics have been from the New Testament. As Christmas has been rapidly approaching, I thought I would ask the children to share with the group their favorite Christmas presents of all time. Not too difficult I assumed for 8 year olds.

As we went around the room, each child mentioned things like bicycles, video games, some girlie things I forget now. I know, I’m a guy!!

But one sweet young girl mentioned the birth of Jesus as her favorite Christmas gift. That definitely helped set the tone for our lesson.

After each child had a chance to respond, somehow in unison it seems, they asked us to share our favorite presents. I was caught a bit off guard, as I hadn't considered my own answer to the question.

I must admit, numerous, fondly remembered presents, came to my mind. There was the artillery cannon that my grandpa Marsh had given me at the age of seven. It shot 5 inch plastic balls and was great fun to shoot at my older sisters, until I was forced to take it outside to shoot. Then there was the electric train set, that was replaced by the slot car set, and so on, and so on.

But what was my favorite gift of all time….the thought eluded me.

Fortunately, Leslie went first, which would give me a bit more time to consider the question.


But then she mentioned something that caught me entirely off guard, and caused me to reflect, and I must admit tear up a bit: Something you don’t want to do in front of a bunch of eight and nine year olds, and yet I seem to do all too often.

She explained to the children that she had inherited a piano, which belonged to her grandparents.

Not long after we were married, her grandfather Cheever passed away, and the Cheever family piano was given to Leslie. As a child, while her mother recuperated after back surgery, she and her younger sister Deanna lived with grandma and grandpa Cheever. The piano held special memories for her, because of the many hours she spent at her grandmothers side practicing her lessons.

The piano was with us in our second apartment, then it made the move to our first home and again found a spot in the family room of our new home in Riverton.

On December 23rd, 1996, just eighteen months after moving into our brand new home, the house was destroyed by fire.



Phone calls brought Leslie and I home from work.  Our family watched helplessly, and in tears, as the firemen worked to exhaustion in an effort to extinguish the flames. After several hours and four alarms, the men finally brought the fire under control.

Everything we owned was in the house.  Gazing into the broken out windows of what was once the family room, we discovered the floor had collapsed.  All of our possessions, that just hours before, had been safely situated in that room were now literally floating in about four feet of water in the basement. The Christmas tree and all the decorations, the stockings for Santa to fill, the old White treadle sewing machine, and yes, even grandma and grandpa Cheever's piano was floating upside down in the murky water.





> Over the course of the next few weeks, we salvaged what we could out of the house. Clothes that smelled of smoke were washed numerous times. Photographs that we found in the frozen water of the basement were carefully dried. Even the old piano was lifted out of the basement using a forklift attachment on a friend’s tractor. With a great deal of effort, and peril of life and limb, it finally exited the basement tomb through the family room window!




What remained of the fire damaged structure was eventually torn down and the home rebuilt. New furniture and appliances were purchased, and slowly life returned to “normal”.



Except there was no piano, the one item needed to perhaps make us whole again.




I was determined to restore the piano, and took every precaution to hide that fact from Leslie. The wood that had suffered water damage beyond repair was replaced, or re-veneered. A decal was made that replicated the original manufacturer’s decal on the key board cover. .
The original quarter sawn oak was sanded and everything was sprayed with a clear varnish. The ivory that had fallen off the keys from their soak in the water were glued back into place. The felt on the hammers was also reattached.
Several pennies were found in the piano. One dated close to the year the piano was made, one about the time Leslie lived with her grandparents, one about the time when Leslie inherited the piano, then I added one for when the repairs were completed. These were glued near the keyboard as a reminder of all the memories associated with it.I had successfully kept the restoration of the piano a secret from Leslie, and at our annual family Christmas party, with the aid of a few of Santa Helpers, it resumed its old place in the family room.


To say she was surprised is an understatement!! Tears were shed that day too, but they were tears of happiness!

Returning once again to the lesson in our Primary class; Leslie shared with the children that the return of her piano that Christmas, was the best present she had ever received. I hadn’t realized that it meant so much to her, but again, I’m a guy!!

As she recounted the story about the return of her piano, the memories of that one very bad day flashed back into my mind.


I was at work when I got the call that the house was on fire. As I turned onto our street after racing home, the scene was surreal. Fire trucks blocked the street, hoses strung down the road, neighbors on the street watching as the flames and smoke seemed to exit from every window and door, and fire fighters doing their best to contain the fire. My wife and children huddled together in tears as friends and family comforted them as we all watched.




As I mentioned, everything we owned was in our now burned out home.




Darkness and the cold night air soon forced us leave the scene. After watching the news coverage of the fire at a neighbor’s home, we found our way to a hotel room many miles away. In shock we all sat stunned at what had happened. In the course of a few hours we had lost the majority of all things near and dear to us, and everything related to our Christmas that was to be celebrated two days later.




Leslie and I wondered just what would become of Christmas.
Well, the word got out. Soon there was a knock at the door of the hotel room. Some of Leslie’s co-workers brought us a 12 inch Christmas tree with all the trimmings.




One family gave up their Christmas stockings so Santa would have something to fill at our adopted “home”. We have that tree and stockings to this day, and each year they are gratefully displayed as part of our Christmas celebrations.







Another knock brought a member of our Ward (as you recall, that’s what LDS people call their congregations). He had an envelope full of cash and checks. Members of the Ward had gathered together, went door to door throughout the neighborhood, and collected money in our behalf so we could purchase the children something for Christmas. Leslie's co-workers at LDS Hospital, made the rounds that night collecting as well.




Leslie spent Christmas eve shopping for clothes, and shoes, and coats so the family could have the necessities for Christmas. As people at the stores heard the story of what had happened to us, many offered to wrap the “presents” at no charge. She literally stopped shopping when the malls closed.




I have a friend who at the time was a Captain with the Salt Lake City Fire Department. When the men on his crew heard our story, they insisted we join them at the firehouse to share their Christmas Eve dinner. It is a truly wonderfully special memory.



Christmas day came and went, shared with family and friends. Over the next days, weeks and months, people continued to come to our rescue. One family friend took our smoke filled clothes to their house and washed them numerous times to remove the smell. When I say numerous, I mean well over a hundred loads.




Others helped us salvage what we could from the remains of the house, and pitched in with the rebuilding of the new home. While the house was burning, a neighbor who is a fire fighter, and was off duty at the time, saw the smoke and came over wearing his spare gear and using a pike pole, saved our dining room table, my desk and computer, before the fire destroyed the room they were in.




So many people came to our rescue that at the time there were simply no words to express our gratitude.




I first saw “It’s a Wonderful Life” as a teenager, and yes back then, I thought it was pretty corny, but as I have matured, its timeless message has caused it to become one of my favorite Christmas movies. Long before the fire, it was a tradition to watch it every Christmas, and I will admit the end still gets me a bit teary eyed.




I mentioned that a member of the Ward had brought an envelope full of donations in our behalf. We waited until he had left to open it, and as we let the contents of the envelope fall onto the bed, I felt a lot as George Bailey must have, at the end of the movie as friends and neighbors filled the basket with money, we truly had angels, in the form of friends, watching out for us. And I would like to believe that a deserving “Clarence” or two got their wings that day.





So what did I tell the Primary class was my favorite Christmas present?




In a much abbreviated explanation than is recounted here, I explained, that as I think about it now, the best Christmas gift I ever received came out of that one very bad day. It was not a physical possession, but a spiritual gift.




For you see, I learned that home truly is where the heart is. We were together as a family in a strange hotel room, and yet it was made a home by family, friends and even strangers as love and charity was sent our way.




I learned that God does have angels here on Earth, and even the smallest acts of kindness come from on high.




I learned that earthly possessions can be gone in an instant. But friendships and memories last forever.




I learned that the old adage “it is better to give, than to receive” is true, but that there are times we must gratefully receive. And in so doing, we can truly understand what it means to give to others. Many of those who came to our rescue have since mentioned how good it felt to help as they were able.




And I was reassured that Heavenly Father never leaves us alone when we have faith in him, and His love for us will get us through any trial or tribulation.




That Christmas, I truly felt “The Christmas Spirit”.



And that is the greatest Christmas present I have ever received.