We didn’t have a lot of money when our family was growing up. We’d skimp and save in order to replace a broken washer, or purchase off-brand foods that were usually bits and pieces of canned fruit, broken noodles, dented cans. We only bought what was essential and always, always on sale.

            When our oldest son was about to graduate from eighth grade, we thought he should have a reliable watch to see him through high school. I checked every ad, looking for the best deal on a good watch.

            I finally found one during the pre-Christmas sales. It wasn’t too expensive, it was a well-known brand, and better yet, it was on sale at a price we could afford.

            My husband entertained the kids while I supposedly went out shopping. In actuality, I snuck around the side of the house, past a large sliding glass door, then crawled in through a window in our bedroom. I had to stay completely silent, so no radio blaring, and keeping the cutting of wrapping paper and the application of scotch tape as quiet as possible.

            We heated the house with a wood-burning stove in the family room instead of using the furnace, so it was quite cold in the bedroom. I wore a heavy coat, stocking cap, and long-sleeved sweatshirts.

            At the end of a specified period of time, I’d hide the gifts in our closets, climb out through the window, slink around the side of the house and open the garage door. I’d always have packages to carry in, items I’d left in the trunk of the car for just that purpose.

            After the kids had fallen asleep, my husband and I carried all the wrapped gifts out from our bedroom and place them under the tree.

            According to tradition, the kids couldn’t get out of bed until my husband went into the front room, turned on all the lights and pronounced that Santa had been there.

            With a great amount of shrieking and laughter, we gathered around our tree and opened gifts, one-by-one. Mounds of wrapping paper were soon all over the floor, accompanied by ribbons and bows, all of which we’d recycle for next year.

            I kept track, and all gifts but one were accounted for: the watch.

            As the kids built Lego structures or played with new toys, I scoured the house, searching through all my usual hiding spots. The watch was nowhere to be found.

            There was one possible place left, one that I didn’t cherish searching: the large garbage can outside.

            This event took place before formal state-wide recycling took place, which meant that everything would be in the can! Food scraps, greasy food coverings, tin cans, crumpled aluminum foil, newspapers, and even lawn cuttings.

            I put on a pair of my husband’s yard gloves and began sorting, moving things one way, then the other, alternating sides, digging deeper and deeper into the much.

            My heart was pounding, harder and harder, as disappointment took over. I wasn’t going to find the watch, our son wouldn’t have a nice gift to take him into the future.

            Imagine my relief when the rectangular box finally appeared!

            And it was unsoiled, a true miracle.

            I tucked it under my sweatshirt and carried it inside and down the hall. I hastily wrapped it, then hid it behind the tree when no one was looking.

            When our son discovered it, unwrapped it, opened the box, his face lit up!