Melania Trump Champions Troops with Holiday Care Packages, Ignites Patriotic Spirit

Paul Riverbank, 12/2/2025Melania Trump leads heartfelt care package event, uniting military families and volunteers in holiday support.

Melania Trump, First Lady, was in the middle of it all—sleeves rolled, focus unwavering—helping assemble care packages for U.S. service members. She wasn’t alone either; Second Lady Usha Vance and several cabinet spouses stood side by side with her, passing snacks and notes along a line of volunteers that drifted from military spouses to Red Cross workers and back again. It’s become something of a tradition, this kind of gathering, though the details change from year to year.

It may sound like the sort of event that writes itself, neat rows of tables loaded down with Rice Krispies treats, peanuts, and hand-written cards. But if you looked closer, you’d spot small, imperfect touches that felt more authentic: a half-drunk mug of cocoa crowding someone's notebook, noisy laughter cutting through Nat King Cole’s voice on the speakers, clumsy tape jobs on some of the wrapped boxes. Behind it all, aircraft—a pair of F-16s, a C-37—kept quiet watch, their noses just visible beyond the bustle.

Melania Trump addressed that gathering plainly. Her words matched the mood: “Every package built here today is built with American values. Each represents liberty, love, community and honor. Each is delivered with heart and love. The foundation of our great nation.” She didn’t linger on herself; instead, she turned the attention to the folks often left behind in these conversations—the families. She made a point about the “silent strength” in the room, talking not just of those in uniform, but their spouses, “who carry the weight of family life on top of their own dreams.” The comment hung in the air, earning nods and a few reflective glances.

Usha Vance, in her turn, went to the heart of the season: “As we enter the holiday season, may we be reminded of our shared responsibility for our communities, our neighbors and our nation.” A simple sentiment, but in that echoing space, it seemed to gather extra weight.

By the end of the day, roughly 700 care packages were stacked along the walls, each with its own collection of snacks, comfort items, and at least one holiday card—sometimes penned by the first or second lady, sometimes by volunteers with less practiced handwriting. If you’d paused near one of the tables, you might have overheard tiny debates about whether trail mix or gummy bears made for better comfort food or chuckled as a cabinet spouse, sticky-fingered from caramel, recounted home kitchen mishaps. Jennifer Hegseth, Kathryn Burgum, Cheryl Hines, and others mixed easily into the flow, which, on reflection, was kind of the whole point.

The American Red Cross orchestrated much of the process, drawing on a history that stretches all the way back to World War I. These days, their reach extends to nearly a quarter million service members and their families each year. Their presence lent the occasion a reminder—discreet, but unmistakable—that this wasn’t just a one-off act of kindness.

Coincidentally (or not), that same day saw the White House’s Christmas decorations unveiled. “Home is Where the Heart Is,” read the theme—a deliberate echo, perhaps, of the assembly inside the hangar and the idea that belonging isn’t bound by walls or addresses. Many of the military spouses present seemed to relate, swapping stories about deployments, favorite holiday traditions, and sometimes, unexpected loneliness.

It’s easy to write off care packages as simple gestures—a handful of snacks and a card won’t change military life, after all. But the notes inside told a different story. One in particular, from Melania Trump, was brief: “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Thank you for your service, our nation is proud of you! Warm wishes, Melania Trump.” It didn’t try to say more than it needed to, but even simple words, in the right moment, carry heft.

You won’t find headlines for the glue-smudged boxes or the five-minute conversations shared between strangers, but those elements formed the real backbone of the event. As in years past, the gathering didn’t chase spectacle. Instead, it drew people together, reinforcing the support—sometimes quiet, but deeply felt—that holds military families up, especially during the holidays. What lingered wasn’t the sight of fighter jets or official speeches, but a shared sense—built on small acts, not grand pronouncements—that sometimes, the ordinary forms of gratitude matter most.

If you visited Joint Base Andrews this December, you’d have noticed something unusual even before stepping inside the cavernous hangar—a certain hum that had just as much to do with the people inside as it did with the aircraft on display. Sure, the seasonal scent of pine mixed with the ever-present undertone of jet fuel, but it was the sense of genuine togetherness that set the tone that day, more so than tinsel or decorations ever could.Melania Trump, First Lady, was in the middle of it all—sleeves rolled, focus unwavering—helping assemble care packages for U.S. service members. She wasn’t alone either; Second Lady Usha Vance and several cabinet spouses stood side by side with her, passing snacks and notes along a line of volunteers that drifted from military spouses to Red Cross workers and back again. It’s become something of a tradition, this kind of gathering, though the details change from year to year.It may sound like the sort of event that writes itself, neat rows of tables loaded down with Rice Krispies treats, peanuts, and hand-written cards. But if you looked closer, you’d spot small, imperfect touches that felt more authentic: a half-drunk mug of cocoa crowding someone's notebook, noisy laughter cutting through Nat King Cole’s voice on the speakers, clumsy tape jobs on some of the wrapped boxes. Behind it all, aircraft—a pair of F-16s, a C-37—kept quiet watch, their noses just visible beyond the bustle.Melania Trump addressed that gathering plainly. Her words matched the mood: “Every package built here today is built with American values. Each represents liberty, love, community and honor. Each is delivered with heart and love. The foundation of our great nation.” She didn’t linger on herself; instead, she turned the attention to the folks often left behind in these conversations—the families. She made a point about the “silent strength” in the room, talking not just of those in uniform, but their spouses, “who carry the weight of family life on top of their own dreams.” The comment hung in the air, earning nods and a few reflective glances.Usha Vance, in her turn, went to the heart of the season: “As we enter the holiday season, may we be reminded of our shared responsibility for our communities, our neighbors and our nation.” A simple sentiment, but in that echoing space, it seemed to gather extra weight.By the end of the day, roughly 700 care packages were stacked along the walls, each with its own collection of snacks, comfort items, and at least one holiday card—sometimes penned by the first or second lady, sometimes by volunteers with less practiced handwriting. If you’d paused near one of the tables, you might have overheard tiny debates about whether trail mix or gummy bears made for better comfort food or chuckled as a cabinet spouse, sticky-fingered from caramel, recounted home kitchen mishaps. Jennifer Hegseth, Kathryn Burgum, Cheryl Hines, and others mixed easily into the flow, which, on reflection, was kind of the whole point.The American Red Cross orchestrated much of the process, drawing on a history that stretches all the way back to World War I. These days, their reach extends to nearly a quarter million service members and their families each year. Their presence lent the occasion a reminder—discreet, but unmistakable—that this wasn’t just a one-off act of kindness.Coincidentally (or not), that same day saw the White House’s Christmas decorations unveiled. “Home is Where the Heart Is,” read the theme—a deliberate echo, perhaps, of the assembly inside the hangar and the idea that belonging isn’t bound by walls or addresses. Many of the military spouses present seemed to relate, swapping stories about deployments, favorite holiday traditions, and sometimes, unexpected loneliness.It’s easy to write off care packages as simple gestures—a handful of snacks and a card won’t change military life, after all. But the notes inside told a different story. One in particular, from Melania Trump, was brief: “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Thank you for your service, our nation is proud of you! Warm wishes, Melania Trump.” It didn’t try to say more than it needed to, but even simple words, in the right moment, carry heft.You won’t find headlines for the glue-smudged boxes or the five-minute conversations shared between strangers, but those elements formed the real backbone of the event. As in years past, the gathering didn’t chase spectacle. Instead, it drew people together, reinforcing the support—sometimes quiet, but deeply felt—that holds military families up, especially during the holidays. What lingered wasn’t the sight of fighter jets or official speeches, but a shared sense—built on small acts, not grand pronouncements—that sometimes, the ordinary forms of gratitude matter most.