I've told this story to a small selection of people over the last few years, but now it is time to share it here. The year was 2000, and my family was enduring some tough times. My sister Lora takes us back to that memorable year with the note she posted on facebook. Please welcome my dear sister, and her take on her memorable Christmas ever.

Lora writes:

Okay, so I have decided to write down a little Christmas story. I know, it is pretty random and all, but I have been really thinking about special Christmas memories lately. Reading the Christmas edition of Chicken Soup For the Soul is not helping at all, but hey. I have to do something to avoid studying for finals, yeah?

I was in my freshman year of high school, and we were broke, like flat broke. We had absolutely no income, with my mom being out of work for reasons too personal and numerous to name, and my dad being completely absent spending another holiday in prison. We were living off of food stamps and welfare, and the kindness of strangers who donate to the food pantry. My brother worked, and maybe my sister too? I can't remember. I know that I idolized them for keeping up in school as well as working, and half of the time taking care of me and household stuff.

Christmas was coming up, and we all knew it was going to be pretty bleak. I think it was one of the first times I can remember being really bummed for Christmas to be coming. It had just been a bad couple of years.

December 15th came around, it was a Friday. I remember it so well, because I was dreading going to first period with Mrs. Belushko, the English teacher from hell, and I was having trouble staying asleep. The phone rang at around 5 AM, a little while before we were supposed to wake up for school. My mom picked it up in her room, and I had an instant feeling of dread. No one calls that early in the morning unless something bad has happened. Kate and I waited until our alarm went off, and my mom called us into her room.

She was crying, trying to hold herself together. She invited us onto the bed to sit, and she said, "Guys, we need to talk. Grampy called a little while ago, and he called to tell me that Grammy had a heart attack and died this morning." She cried, we cried. We had no money to travel, so my extended family was all chipping in to get us up there (PEI Canada) for the wake and funeral, and to just be with our family.

It was heartbreaking. After we got back from Canada, we were all miserable. Christmas Eve rolled around, and we dragged ourselves out of the house to dinner, just about the only thing we could afford for celebration. I can’t remember where we went, but I remember feeling good that we could at least do something as a family, not matter how many people were currently and permanently missing from our lives, we still had each other. And I was glad for that.

We came home, and pulled into our driveway. Got out of the car. I think Kate was the first to notice, but we were all pretty quick to realize something was going on. Our porch was covered in something. As we got closer, we realized they were bags and packages, boxes of all types. Christmas presents, each with one of our name’s on it, all from Santa. We rushed into the house, pulled them all in. It was crazy; there were tons of presents for all of us! They were good presents, too, everything was the right size and right color. Whoever did this knew our family, and knew exactly what we needed in more ways than one. We opened our gifts, and sat in silent reverie for awhile, tears leaking out of our eyes every so often, smiles permanently fixed to our faces.

While taking out some of the wrapping trash, something else was spotted in the garage. More packages, bags and boxes, again all labeled for us, but from a different Santa. We brought them all in, and it was the same situation. Gifts tailored to each of us.

I have never had a more memorable Christmas. The warmth and happiness and love that we all felt from the kindness of some persons unknown (who, to this day, still remain anonymous) will stay with me for the rest of my life.

So I’m sure that my memory is not 100% correct, but that is the best I can remember it.

Well, now that I've gotten all sappy on yo' ass, feel like sharing some special memories with me? Free hugs work, too :)

I know that this sounds lame and way overly advised, but take some time this season and just be psyched to be alive.

Thanks Lora... This story is so close to my heart I struggle to find words to describe it without venturing into cliche territory. I just hope that the people who performed this incredible act realize how much it meant to our family. You can contact Lora at lora@tuneoutdropin.com