This was sent to me in an email from a freind;

When I asked our newlywed Sunday School class to share a
favorite Christmas story, Carrie Fuller said, "Our
family has one we call the 'brown bag Christmas.'" When she
finished, I had to hear more.
Two days later, I called a member of her family for more
details. It was the early 1930s during the Dust Bowl days of
Kansas, in the heart of the Depression. The Canaday family---Mom,
Dad, 7 children---were having a tough time existing, so there
would be no luxuries at Christmas that year. Mom told the children to
go outside and find a Christmas tree and decorate it. After
a lengthy search, they returned with a dead branch, the only
thing they had been able to find. They stood it up in a
bucket of sand and decorated it with pieces of paper tied
with string. Little Judy, almost four, did not know how a
Christmas tree was supposed to look, but somehow she knew it
was not like that!
As Christmas approached, the Canaday children, like
children everywhere, pestered Mom and Dad about what
presents they might get under their "tree." Dad
pointed out that the pantry was bare, that they did not have
enough to live on, and there certainly would be no money for
gifts. But Mom was a woman of faith and told her children, "Say
your prayers. Ask God to send us what He wants us to
have." Dad said, "Now, Mother, don't be
getting the children's hopes up. You're just setting
them up for a disappointment." Mom said, "Pray, children. Tell
Jesus." And pray they did.
On Christmas Eve, the children watched out the window for
visitors, but no one came. "Blow out the lamp and go to
bed", Dad said. "Nobody is going to come. No one
even knows we're out here."
The children turned out the lamp and got in bed, but they
were too excited to sleep. Was this not Christmas? Had they
not asked God to send them the presents He wanted them to
have? Did Mom not say God answers
prayer?
Late that night, when one of the children spotted
headlights coming down the dirt road, everyone jumped out of
bed and ran to the window. The commotion woke up Mom and
Dad. "Don't get excited, children," Dad said.
"They're probably not coming here. It's just
someone who got lost." The
children kept hoping and the car kept coming. Then, Dad
lit a lamp. They all wanted to rush to the door at the same time, but Mr.
Canaday said, "Stay back. I'll go." Someone
got out of the car and called, "I was wondering if
someone here can help me unload these bags." The
children dashed out the door to lend a hand. Mom said to her
youngest, "Stay here, Judy, and help Mom open the bags
and put up the gifts."
A deacon from the church in town had gone to bed that
Christmas Eve, and lay there tossing and turning, unable to
get the Canaday family off his mind. Later, he said, "I didn't know what
kind of shape you folks were in, but I knew you had all those kids." He had
gotten up and dressed and went around town, rousing people
from their sleep to ask for a contribution for the Canaday family. He filled his car with
bags of groceries, canned goods, toys, and clothing. Little
Judy got a rag doll which remained her favorite for years.
With so much food, Dad wanted to have a Christmas feast,
to spread it all out and eat as they had never eaten before.
Mom, ever the caretaker, said, "No, we need to make
this last." And it did last, for weeks.
The next Sunday, Mrs. Canaday stood in church and told
what the members---and one deacon in particular---had done
for her family. There was not a dry eye in the house.
Years later, the oldest sister Eva wrote up this story
about her family for a school project. Eva said, "We
were so thrilled by all the wonderful things in the bags,
for a while ;we lost sight of the most special gift. The
best gift that Christmas was not in brown bags at all. It
was Mom's faith, as she taught her children to bring
their needs to Jesus and trust Him to meet them. And a
Dad's love that wanted only to protect his children from
hurt and disappointment."
When Carrie finished telling her story, she added,
"Little Judy is my wonderful grandmother." Today,
Judy Canaday Dryden lives in Sanger, Texas. As she relived
this event from seventy years ago over the phone,
one could hear the tear in her voice and feel her pride in
being the recipient of such a precious heritage from her
mother and father.
At Christmas, we celebrate praying mothers and caring
fathers and believing children. We give thanks for sensitive
deacons and generous friends and sleepless nights. And we praise God for the
hard times that teach unforgettable lessons, stories of faithfulness that
get told and retold through the years inspiring each new generation to
place their faith in a loving Savior

Debra Gallagher