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The only thing I want for Christmas is a tiny scrap of paper

Yesterday a friend and I were scheduled to drive a U-Haul up to my in-laws’ home in the Berkshires to pick up some living room furniture for my home.

An hour before we were to depart, my friend’s wife texted me, telling me that her husband was doubled over with a stomach bug and unable to help.

I picked up the phone to cancel the truck. It was 9:00 AM. Two days before Christmas. It was raining. We would be gone for at least five hours. I needed to leave within the hour.

There was no way that I would find anyone to help.

Still, I decided to give it a shot. I sent a text to five of my closest friends, explaining the situation and asking if anyone was willing to help.

Within 15 minutes, three of the five had offered to surrender their afternoons to help me. A fourth is out of the country and has yet to receive the text.

I couldn’t believe it.

I thought it would be a miracle if I found one person to help.

I found three.

When I awake on Christmas morning and peek into my stocking, the only thing I should find inside is a scrap of paper that says, “Your friends.”

Aside from my family, they may be my greatest gift.