Most of us will say we don’t really care about getting gifts for Christmas and that gifts aren’t important and aren’t the true meaning of Christmas. However, I think most of us would like to receive something special. Children are more honest and have long lists of toys and games they are hoping to find under the tree Christmas morning.
If we adults were as honest as children and made a long list of things we’d really like, we might ask for a new house, a better car, a big screen TV or a stocking full of gold coins. Of course, we don’t expect to get any of those things but wouldn’t it be nice?
Most of us can remember one Christmas when we were children when we got that one wonderful gift we’d wanted so badly. Perhaps we’d wanted that one special toy for months before Christmas. Maybe we knew it was too expensive or hard to get, or maybe we felt we hadn’t been good enough to deserve it. But still, there was that little flicker of hope in our hearts that maybe Santa Claus or our parents or someone would place that perfect gift under the tree for us to find on Christmas morning.
Christmas is about hope and wishing, dreams, joy and expectations. When we are children, we ask for toys. When we are in love, we might hope for an engagement ring. When we are older, maybe all we want is a phone call from our loved ones who live far away.
Our dreams change as we grow older. What we wanted so badly when we were ten years old isn’t the right gift for us when we are 40 or 60 but I think all of us still hope for a gift at Christmas.
When my son Trinity was a teenager in high school, we lived on a farm and he had to ride the school bus two hours a day back and forth to school. He was the oldest kid on the bus and felt embarrassed to have to ride with the “little kids.”
Christmas morning Trinity’s sister and his two brothers were opening gifts one after another, boxes and wrapping paper were piling up around them. Trinity only had a few gifts. His pile was small compared to the other kids. He kept looking around thinking surely he must have missed something.
He looked around the tree, around the room. There was no mistake. His sister and his brothers had mountains of gifts compared to what he’d received.
I asked him if he’d gotten what he wanted for Christmas and he said “yes” and slumped down on a chair and tried to smile but the disappointment was plain on his face.
I asked him if he’d go outside and wade through the snow and bring in some logs for the fireplace.
As if it wasn’t bad enough he’d barely gotten any gifts for Christmas, now he had to be the one to go after more firewood.
Everyone in the family knew his Christmas gift was hidden behind the woodpile waiting for him to find it. As soon as he went outside, we all rushed outside to watch him as he turned the corner of the house. Hidden behind the woodpile was a blue car with a red bow and a big sign that said, “MERRY CHRISTMAS, TRINITY!”
At first, he couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t expected a car: he was speechless.
When I handed him the keys, there were tears in his eyes and he ran to the car and started the engine and honked the horn.
It was a used car, it wasn’t fancy or new. But it was his very own car. He knew I trusted him and recognized him as a responsible young man. He’d never had to ride the school bus with the “little” kids again. It was more than a used car. It was freedom and status.
For me, it was worry about a teenage driver, higher insurance and cutting apron strings.
He’d expected very little and suddenly he’d received a gift beyond his wildest dreams.
I think I often expect too little from God. I don’t realize He has great gifts hidden behind the woodpile waiting for me to discover.
That Christmas happened long ago. I remember how I scrambled for a month before Christmas looking for a car good enough, safe enough, one I could afford and a car my son would be proud to own.
We had a good Christmas and I don’t think any of us remember the gifts we got that year but we all remember how happy Trinity was and how much we all enjoyed being in on the big surprise.
That evening I was sitting on the couch with my daughter watching the logs burn as we watched “A Christmas Carol.” We were all happily exhausted.
“What was your best gift?” I asked.
“The best thing is sitting next to you,” she said.
And that moment was my best gift.
What was the best gift anyone ever gave you? What was the best gift you ever gave someone?
Every Christmas whether we get a card or gift from anyone else or not, we know that on that first Christmas, God gave us His best gift.
Merry Christmas and Blessings in the New Year!
Crying Wind is the author of Crying Wind and My Searching Heart, When the Stars Danced, and Thunder in Our Hearts, Lightning in Our Veins. All her books are available from Indian Life.
