In the glow of twinkling lights and the quiet magic of Christmas mornings, Mandy Richardson of White House sees more than holiday tradition—she sees the memory of her brother, Dana, and the healing that comes from giving joy to others.

What began as a deeply personal tribute has grown into a heart-centered community project: a free Christmas tree lot that gives previously loved trees a second life, and families a little Christmas magic they may not otherwise have.

Mandy grew up in a bustling, loving home with five siblings—four older, two younger, including a set of twins. Life was wonderfully ordinary: her dad worked a steady manufacturing job, her mom stayed home, and holidays were full of warmth. But like so many families, theirs was touched by something they never expected: addiction.

Dana, the oldest, was born on December 23rd—his mom and dad’s first wedding anniversary. He was a football star, a big brother who adored his younger sisters, and a young man who loved Christmas with genuine childlike joy. But when a family move uprooted him from the northeast to El Paso during his senior year of high school, everything changed. He struggled to regain his footing, eventually falling into substance use that escalated over the years.

Despite his battles, Mandy remembers the best of her brother vividly. When he was doing well, he worked hard, brought home extravagant toys for his sisters, and made Christmas feel enchanted. She recalls being a little girl sneaking out early one Christmas morning to peek at the presents. Dana—then in his early twenties, headed to work at a convenience store—stood quietly admiring the Christmas tree he loved so much, carefully tucking paychecks for his sisters into the branches before heading out. That moment, she says, is the purest memory of the brother she wants her children to know.

In 2006, just before Christmas, Mandy received the devastating call that Dana had passed away. The circumstances were unclear—possibly an overdose, possibly violence—but the heartbreak was certain. For years, Mandy carried anger, confusion, and grief. It wasn’t until she learned more about addiction as a disease that she found forgiveness and understanding. “He didn’t know how to beat the addiction, and we didn’t know how to help him fight,” she says. “As I aged, I realized he was a victim of addiction.”

Last year, Mandy decided it was time to honor Dana in the way he deserved. Inspired by his love of Christmas and his giving spirit, she launched a free Christmas tree lot—accepting donated trees, adding fresh lights and ornaments, and inviting families to choose a tree, no questions asked. Some come during the day for cheerful help loading up their chosen tree; others come quietly at night for a private moment of holiday hope.

“There are plenty of places that provide presents,” Mandy shares, “but we wanted to provide the little piece of magic a Christmas tree brings—the warm colors, the memories of younger days, and the excitement of the season.”

Every tree donor receives a “new home story” about where their tree ended up. Mandy keeps families anonymous but shares their joy, their gratitude, and the story of how their donated tree made Christmas brighter for someone else. It creates a circle of hope and giving that grows bigger with each tree.

For Mandy, the project is not just a way to help others—it’s part of her healing. It’s a way to talk openly with her own children about the realities of addiction, to break generational cycles, and to let Dana’s story encourage compassion and courage in their lives.

“Even though our free Christmas tree lot is small, it’s part of my healing journey,” Mandy says. “And hopefully it brings joy to others in the process.”

This season, as families throughout the community gather around glowing trees—some rescued, some restored, all filled with purpose—Mandy knows Dana would be proud. His legacy now shines in living rooms across town, one twinkling light at a time.