The gift that keeps on giving...

Christmas in the Brass household is fairly similar to how one would expect it.  Many of the gifts are Mopar themed, all of the gifts come in recycled Mopar boxes that my dad collected from the dealership parts department, and our tree is decorated with a variety of Mopar themed ornaments and a Mopar train circles below it.  In keeping with the theme of a Very Merry Mopar Christmas, I share with you the story of the most spectacular Christmas that a girl could ask for.  It’s even more spectacular this year, because this Christmas marks the tenth anniversary of the day I got my 2005 Jeep Wrangler.

To brief you with a bit of history, when I was three years old, awaiting by the Christmas tree when I sleepily walked into the living room was a pink Barbie Jeep PowerWheels.  Since that day, I “wanted a Jeep when I grew up.”  As my 16^th birthday approached, I was still heart set on a Jeep Wrangler of my own.  That summer was spent searching Craigslist and I would scream bloody murder from the back seat of the family Durango if we passed one for sale on the side of the road.  My parents would humor me and stop so that I could jump out, scribble down the phone number, and excitedly get back in the Durango, hopeful that the Jeep we just looked at would become mine someday.

My birthday passed…no Jeep.  Obviously, I had high expectations for my middle-class family.  I have always been a big dreamer as there is something exhilarating to me about wanting something so badly that the thought of it takes you to a parallel universe.  Naturally, when I blew out sixteen candles and a Jeep did not magically appear, I refreshed my dream.  I know spent my days daydreaming about a true Christmas Miracle, one that arrived not in Santa’s sleigh, but under its own power. As you’ve likely put together by now, I am currently a believer in Christmas Miracles, because I’ve had one.

When I woke up on Christmas morning in 2005, the first thing I did was look out my bathroom window scanning the driveway for a Jeep Wrangler.  Fresh frost on the grass and the shimmer of frost on the black top left no evidence of a new vehicle in the driveway.  As my mom called up the stairs in her red bathrobe over the sound of Christmas records playing in the background, I tried to hide my disappointment and walked down the stairs meeting the video camera with a tired smile.  My youngest sister was eight at the time and still believed in the magic of Christmas.  Footprints from the fireplace ash marked the carpet and a half eaten cookie teetered on the edge of a wreath shaped plate, just next to a ring of milk left on the coffee table.  We all looked on in wonder as the perfectly wrapped boxes cascaded out from under the Christmas Tree.  I took inventory… we all had a similar number of boxes.  I was losing hope in the dream of a Jeep Wrangler for Christmas.

Insult to injury, as we took turns opening gifts, my sisters opened things like drumsets and iPods while I opened socks, books, and pocket sized hand lotions.  I was beginning to think that I had been a real jerk the last year.  I was, after all, a sixteen year old girl… so I started replaying the arguments I had with my mom in mind.  We argued about clothes and curfews and whether or not “damn” was an appropriate word to use at my age.  None of those things seemed bad enough to get a pair of socks while my sister for an iPod.  My confusion must have been evident as my dad stepped over ripped paper and open boxes to pick up a box sitting amidst the Christmas rubble.  It was the size of one of those shoe boxes that sandals or flip flops generally come in.  Wrapped in shiny striped paper, I tore open the wrapping and opening the box.  In it was a white bra- a quick backstory, my sister and I had spent the better part of the last month hiding this bra in each other’s room, wondering where the bra would end up next became a running joke.  I picked up the bra, laughed, and threw it on the floor.  Under the bra sat a tiny white box and in that tiny white box sat a tiny Jeep key on a keychain engraved with my initials.

Until this day, I can feel my heart stop the same way it did when I picked that key out of the box.  I couldn’t catch my breath and the only reaction my body could muster was to sob uncontrollably.  I hand never felt such joy.  Until this very day, I have not felt as grateful as I did in that moment.  It was, without a doubt, the most magical day of my life.  When I finally regained the ability to move my own body, I jumped up and went in search of my new Jeep Wrangler…my little sisters excitedly followed.  I ran out on our back deck into the brisk December air in my tee shirt and less-than-stylish pajama pants.  I was basically walking in circles, making an ugly crying face that would put Kim Kardashian to shame.  My sister, Ashleigh, saw the Jeep before me and screamed! I ran towards her and my Mom ran after me, recording every second.  There, hiding behind our garage, between the travel trailers… I saw it. 

I cried some more as I admired the perfect silver paint and once I composed myself, I ran through the frozen grass in my socks.  There was a green bow on the hood and an oversized gift tag in the frosted window.  It was perfect.  I got in the driver’s seat and my mom got in the passenger’s seat.  When I fired up that Jeep and the mileage flashed on the console, it read twelve.  It was at that moment that I realized that this was not one of the Jeeps that I found on Craigslist…this was a brand new Jeep Wrangler, and it was mine.  At that moment, sitting in my freezing Jeep with my mom shivering next to me, and my dad smiling ear to ear with my sisters, gazing in the window… I experienced a Christmas miracle.

I should state that my Christmas miracle did come with fifty-eight monthly payments, but I did not care.  I had everything I had ever dreamed of.  I had my own Jeep Wrangler, my very first Mopar.  I had my Christmas Miracle, a gift that truly kept on giving. I sit here, just a few days shy of the ten year anniversary from that magical day and I can still feel it.  I can still see my dads smile as I hugged him with tear filled eyes, I can still picture my mom sitting shotgun- where her angelic spirit rides now, I can still smell that new car interior.  I share this with you because the story is so special to me and because, as we wade through the hustle and bustle of this holiday season, trying to find the perfect gifts… it is important to remember why we do it.  The memories that will be made Christmas morning, the happiness that you will see in the eyes of your loved ones, the pure joy in the air… there is no price tag on that. 

I wish you all the Merriest of Christmases.  The world is becoming a tough place in which to find joy and contentment.  I hope my story has reminded you that when you need to find a bit of magic this holiday season, it’s likely sitting in your garage or your driveway.  Even if your Mopar didn’t come to you wrapped in a bow on Christmas morning, I am sure that it has brought a magical feeling into your life.  Our Mopars are, after all, the gifts that keep on giving.

Merry Mopar Christmas to you and Happy Anniversary to my Jeep Wrangler!

You can check out my home video of m Christmas miracle here- https://youtu.be/FmD-0tXfOgE