I remember my first Christmas with grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” She snorted...”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumour has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.” “Go? Go where, grandma?” I asked. “Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it.” Then she walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight. For a few moments I stood there, confused, clutching that $10 bill, wondering what to buy. I thought of everybody: my family, friends, neighbours, the kids at school. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. — Beliefnet.com