|
|
Enron Mail |
---------------------- Forwarded by Maria Sandoval/HOU/ECT on 11/27/2000
07:49 AM --------------------------- Yolanda Sandoval <Yolanda.Sandoval@Halliburton.com< on 11/27/2000 07:14:57 AM To: cc: Subject: FW: Christmas Story Yolanda Sandoval KBR Legal Dept. *713-753-5986 *713-753-7626 * yolanda.sandoval@halliburton.com This email, including any attached files, may contain confidential and privileged information for the sole use of the intended recipient(s). Any review, use, distribution or disclosure by others is strictly prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient (or authorized to receive information for the recipient), please contact the sender by reply email and delete all copies of this message. Thank you. < < < A NICE ONE TO PASS ONE. < < < < < < If this doesn't set you straight about Christmas, nothing will: < < < In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry < < < babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. < < < The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was < two. < < < < < < Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. < < < Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway < they would scramble to hide under their beds. < < < < < < He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he < < < had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no < food either. < < < < < < If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that < < time, certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until < they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. < I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find < a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant < in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed, crammed into the car < and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would < < < listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a < job. < < < < < < Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of < < < town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to < a < < < truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny < owned < < < the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all < < those kids. < < < < < < She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in < < the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night. < < < < < < I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for < < < people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar < a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would < already be asleep. < < < < < < This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. < < < That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all < < < thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big < Wheel. < < < When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter < < < up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money - fully half of < < what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added < < another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the < consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them < with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go < home. < < < < < < One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and < found < < < four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no < nothing, < < < just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in < < < Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service < station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up < his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than < it did for him to do the tires. < < < < < < I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't < < < enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money < < < for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started < < < repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement < so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. < < < < < < Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on < the < < < boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair. On Christmas < < Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. < These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper < named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the < Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars < all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning < and < then left to get home before the sun came up. < < < < < < When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas < < < morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake up < < < before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement < and place them under the tree. We had cut down a small cedar tree < by the side of the road down by the dump. It was still dark and I < couldn't < see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car or was < that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, < but it was hard to tell what. < < < < < < When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. < < Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled < full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened < the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front < facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top < box. < < < < < < Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked < < inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then < I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and nuts < and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for < baking, < and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and < cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry < supplies < and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful < little doll. As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly < rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with < gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little < ones that precious morning. Yes, there were angels in Indiana that < long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop. < < < < < < THE POWER OF PRAYER < < < When you receive this, say a prayer. This prayer will do. That's all < you < < < have to do. There is nothing attached. This is powerful. Just send < this < < to four people and Do not break this, please. Prayer is one of the < best < free gifts we receive. There is no cost but a lot of rewards. Let's < continue praying for one another. Father, I ask you to bless my < friends < reading this right now. Lord, show them a new revelation of Your love < and < power. < < < < < < Holy Spirit, I ask You to minister to their spirit at this very < moment. < Where there is pain, give them Your peace & mercy. Where there is self < doubting, release a renewed confidence in Your ability to work through < them. Where there is tiredness, or exhaustion, I ask You to give them < understanding, patience, & strength as they learn submission to Your < leading. Where there is spiritual stagnation, I ask You to renew them < < < by revealing Your nearness, and by drawing them into greater intimacy < < with You. Where there is fear, reveal Your love, and release to them < your courage. Where there is a sin blocking them, reveal it, and break < < < its hold over my friend's life. Bless their finances, give them < greater < < < vision, and raise up leaders, and friends to support, and encourage < < them. Give each of them discernment to recognize the demonic forces < around them, and reveal to them the power they have in You to defeat < it. < I ask You to do these things in Jesus' name. Amen. < < < < < < Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both. < < < < < < Passing this on to one not considered a friend is something I know < < Christ would do. < <<Internet HTML<< - att1.htm
|