When I was 8, my class had a Christmas gift exchange.

My family was so poor we couldn’t afford a gift, so I wrapped one of my dad’s old books in reused gift paper and gave it to my classmate.

She, in return, had given me the latest Barbie. When she saw my gift, she started crying.

The next day, her mom came to school, looking serious and asking for me. Suddenly, she started smiling when she saw me and her expression softened. S

he handed me a bag filled with gifts—the Barbie’s matching car, a Ken doll, and brand-new holiday clothes. I was overwhelmed.

It didn’t end there. I froze in shock when she told me to wait after school because she was taking me and her daughter to lunch—I couldn’t believe it.

It was my first time ever in a restaurant.

Her daughter, who had been upset before, was now kind to me, and we became close friends. We’re still friends today, even at 24, despite living in different towns.

That mother’s kindness was the first time I truly felt the magic of Christmas. I’ve never forgotten it. Now that my family is financially stable, I pay it forward every year by helping a child in need during the holidays.

After a lifetime of messing up, my family disowned me, and I’ve been homeless and destitute.

I found a medication regimen that actually works for my mental illness. Unfortunately, the rest of life hasn’t fallen into place, and I’m still homeless and unemployed.

My attempts to contact my family were limited or thwarted, as my phone was stolen, and my email containing all my phone numbers was linked to it, leaving me limited to writing letters. I wrote roughly once a week, with no response. For months. It hurt. I tried to keep my head up, but it got harder as time went on.

Eventually, I got back on Facebook, and found my mom’s account. I messaged her this morning, saying Merry Christmas, that I miss her, and that I’m sorry for everything.

I expected radio silence once more. BUT SHE MESSAGED ME BACK! I GOT TO TALK TO MY FAMILY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN SIX MONTHS TODAY!

It’s mixed news since my dad is in the hospital and almost died, but it’s way better than not knowing. And then after they passed the phone around, my mom got back on and told me I got a check in the mail. A legit check—she had to check it out herself—for 8 grand.

Here I am, in a homeless shelter, lost, destitute, and unsure of what to do next, when everything I needed and wanted fell into my lap on Christmas. © reyemanivad / Reddit