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In late 1999, after our monthly home-school meeting had finished, I listened to a friend describe how she and her young girls delivered phone books during December to make some extra money.

This sounded like something that I could do with my own kids. As a home-schooling family, we had the luxury of adjusting our school schedule to accommodate holidays and extra activities accordingly.

I filled out the necessary paperwork and picked out a route. The warehouse loaders filled my car with phone books, leaving only enough room for us to sit. I looked in the back of the station wagon, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

We started with an apartment complex within the route. Curious kids ran to our car as if we were selling ice cream. One older gentleman even gave my young son a nickel as a tip for bringing him his phone book.

We eventually found ourselves going up and down the neighborhood's roads delivering house to house. I was amazed how easily we were able to deliver that first load of phone books. We went back for another load before they closed for the day.

As time went on, we learned what worked best for us. We recognized what sort of routes we enjoyed most and could make the most money from. We found that we really enjoyed the work and the time spent riding together as we followed the routes we had been assigned to deliver within. Our family was knit closer with every day spent working together.

Right before we started deliveries, my daughter had been introduced to the word bandwagon. I illustrated the meaning of the word by pointing out how many people "jumped on the bandwagon" to decorate their homes with icicle lights. Every time we saw a house with icicle lights, someone would call out, "bandwagon -- icicle lights," and laughter would erupt in the car.

We enjoyed seeing the various Christmas decorations on people's homes and the lights that turned on at dusk right before we stopped for the day.

We also learned how to juggle phone book deliveries around illnesses when first my son, Christopher, and later my daughter, Hannah, contracted chicken pox around Christmas and New Year's. With a few adjustments and planning, I continued delivering phone books with whoever was well.

Receiving our first check became a civics lesson as the kids wanted to know why some of the money was taken out of the check. I gave them a simplified version, including telling them the money went to pay the salaries of the police and fire departments that help keep us safe.

Later, after we were pulled over by a policeman in a nearby neighborhood, the kids realized that the money we paid in taxes also paid this same policeman to pull us over. They found this amazing and humorous.

The police officer checked us out after a concerned citizen had seen us driving slowly on their road. My alibi was tight -- with a backseat full of phone books and route paperwork in hand.

We built many fun memories as we worked a bit of humor into the routine and became more comfortable with delivering phone books.

Most adults know that just about every boy, including my son, is called "Buddy" at one time or another in his life.

However, my young son went into a little country general store in the Southeastern part of the county thinking it was his name alone. When the clerk said, "What have you got for me, Buddy?" my son didn't think anything of it. It was his nickname.

As my son got into the car, I turned and asked him with big open eyes, "How did HE know YOUR name was Buddy?" My son looked at me, realizing that indeed, the man in the store had called him by his nickname.

As I watched his eyes grow in amazement that a stranger knew his name, the grin on my face grew into laughter. He soon learned his surprised response to my question was the punch line of my joke.

I can still gain a smile from him if I ask him that same question today.

We delivered phone books during December for eight years. During that time, God provided us with more than monetary blessings from the hard work of our hands. He built long-lasting memories and lessons from the thoughts, conversations and events that occurred during those precious years we delivered phone books between Thanksgiving and New Year's.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.