Meet Emma—she’s the heartbeat of the most important Christmas Jar story I’ve ever shared.
If you’ve followed the tradition, you know that it began in 2004 when the Wright gang gave away the first jar.
We lived in Northern Virginia, and we chose a family from our church.
The truth is, this was really just an experiment—we didn’t even call it a Christmas Jar back then.
But delivering that very first jar on Christmas Eve has become one of our family’s most treasured memories.
We loved that fabulous family, and we’ve always considered them the original, true pioneers of the movement.
In the days and weeks after the delivery, I began writing a short story that became Christmas Jars: The Novella. I even named a couple of the characters in the book after their family members.
Obviously, we had no idea where it would all lead. And when the book was picked up by a publisher in 2005, we simply smiled when the jar family pointed out the coincidence that the “Christmas Jars guy” lived one neighborhood over and went to their church.
The book was the surprise hit of 2005 no one expected—not the publisher, not the Wrights, not retailers. But readers like you (yes, you—the one reading this post) embraced the book and tradition in wonderful ways.
In the 20 years since, thousands of jars have been given away across the country. My own family has given away at least one jar every single year since that first delivery.
And honestly? I’ve told the story of that first family hundreds of times—at book signings, in interviews, at workshops. Always in past tense. Always as a treasured memory.
I never expected the story to become present tense again.
But 2025—the 20-year anniversary of the book—is where things take a miraculous turn.
Two weeks ago, I was asked to speak at a forum at Southern Virginia University. I’ve been teaching a writing workshop there for a couple of years, and the invite was truly an honor.
It was billed as their annual Christmas devotional, and I was told to celebrate Christmas Jars by sharing inspiring stories and lessons learned.
I knew without a doubt that, of the countless stories I’ve lived or received, I’d tell the story of the jar and the family that started it all.
About a week before the devotional, I received a message on social media from Nancy, the mother of that family. Long ago, they moved to the other side of the country, and while we’ve followed each other online, we haven’t been in the same room in many years.
Her message told me that her granddaughter Emma is a student at SVU and that if I ever saw her on campus, I should give her a hug from her grandmother. “Just tell her she’s loved,” she said.
Nancy probably could have seen my smile from space.
I told her I’d never met her or even heard her name mentioned in class, but that might soon change. “You won’t believe this,” I wrote back. “But I am speaking at their forum this week! And I just might be sharing a very special Christmas Jars story.”
Fast forward—I am on stage, looking out at the student body, wondering
if she’s there. Wondering if she even knows her family’s unique connection to the Christmas Jars tradition.
Fighting back tears, I said these words: “For the first time in 20 years, having told this story more times than I can remember, there is someone in the audience with a personal relationship to this story and that jar. A granddaughter of that family is in this very room right now.”
You could have heard a pine needle drop from a tree. The silence was sacred and beautiful.
I shared a few small details about the family. No names, but some facts that might have been a flag for Emma.
After my remarks, I waited to see if someone would approach. I knew her name, of course, but I didn’t want to call her out. The choice needed to be hers.
Here’s the real plot twist.
After the forum each week, President Bonnie Cordon and her husband host a luncheon at the president’s home for the speaker and a handful of randomly selected students. It’s a chance for them to ask questions, eat a lovely meal, and connect with the Cordons in a special way. It’s a true honor to be invited.
You already know where this is going, right?
I walked around the table, shook hands—and there she was.
Emma was seated at the large table with a name card in front of her plate.
Over the next 45 minutes, we ate lunch, and students took turns sharing favorite Christmas memories and traditions. When it was my turn, I dropped a few more hints about that original jar family and the circumstances of their lives at the time, but still Emma didn’t blink.
Just before we stood from the table, I asked if I could pose one more question of the group. “So, before we go, I have a final question.” I looked around the table at the eight students and the Cordons, then quickly scanned past Emma, careful not to give anything away too soon.
“If I told you that the student I mentioned earlier was sitting at this table, would you want to know who?”
Eyes darted around at one another, and I finally looked at Emma.
“I think it’s me,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said. “It is you.”
We then connected the dots on her family history, and she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that her family didn’t just receive a Christmas Jar—they received the Christmas Jar.
The one that started it all.
A few hours later, Emma came to my book signing, and I was honored to sign a book to the only Christmas Jars family older than the book itself.
There are some additional personal details around this miraculous intersection of our lives that are not appropriate to share on social media.
But I assure you that in a million ways, this was meant to be. We needed to meet Emma in that way, at that time, for so many reasons.
We were supposed to deliver that message from her grandmother.
“Emma, you are loved.”
We gave hugs. We gave gratitude.
We never anticipated admitting that we were the ones who gave her family that first jar two decades ago.
But when God creates miraculous moments, His will is done.
Everyone in the room recognized heaven’s hand in putting us in that devotional together—and, more importantly, around the same table.
It is my personal witness that God is deeply in the details of our lives.
What’s important to us is important to Him.
Choosing a favorite Christmas Jars story has always been so challenging.
Impossible, really.
But not anymore.
This story. This family. This young lady.
Emma, you are loved.