The Gifts Are My Favorite Part

Christmas is, has been and will probably always be, my favorite time of year. The stress, the rush, the crowds are overlooked in comparison to the fun, the warmth, the lights and the unexplainable determination to be among family and friends.

I never run out of excuses to sing. I cannot quench the fire of worship that rises in me. I am overcome by gratefulness this time of year. I never run out of tears to mix with my laughter and so far I have never run out of gifts to open.

Of all the wonderful things about Christmas, the gifts are my favorite part. I start opening them right after Thanksgiving and I don’t stop until some time in the middle of January. I have even been known to pull out a few forgotten items and unwrap some delightful package right in the middle of July.

These gifts are precious things, never losing their sparkle though they’ve been wrapped, unwrapped, re-wrapped, shared, re-gifted, and handled year after year. They are treasures that never lose their luster. My favorite gifts of Christmas are the moments and memories, the snapshots of childhood and beyond, that have become almost tangible to my hands and completely traceable in my mind. I could redraw the scenes in detail, I can hear the voices clearly and each taste and smell and twinkle around me during December is like pulling the bow off of another familiar package.

Driving around the countryside to see the Christmas lights with Grandma Katie, sitting in the dark living room with my sisters listening to the carols played on vinyl records while we stared at the lights of the tree. Going around the house with mom finding the perfect spot for the plastic garland and the candle holder with the wise men on it (remember that one Kristy?…it had a star that looked like a ring and sat around the tapered candle) and the little Christmas bouquets that hung in red velvet baskets from gold chains. Wrapping little surprises with mom in oddly shaped boxes (remember the red dress in the cardboard tube Becky? You would never have solved that one if Kristy hadn’t slipped) so the Christmas detective in the house couldn’t figure out what was inside.

Trees weren’t had every year, but the gifts were still given. Mom hung lights on the wall in the shape of a tree so that we could put our boxes and bows around it and still see the lights. Waiting for snow to fall, excited when it did. Excited enough to wake each other up and sit at the patio window with the porch light on outside so that the white flakes were the only thing we could see. The year it was so warm on Christmas day in Michigan that the whole family, aunts, uncles and cousins played softball in short sleeves on Grandma’s lawn. We had enough people for two full teams and a cheering section.

I remember it so clearly. I unwrap those gifts year after year…as if I am seeing them for the first time. So much emotion went with each moment. So much warmth is associated with each sound that I took in as a child. The harmony of my aunts and uncles singing carols together. The joy of watching the newest cousin take her first steps or the hilarity of whatever ridiculous thing my uncles might say. The last Christmas with my Grandpa, singing a carol to him in German with my sisters and cousins and realizing at the age of 6 years that a song had power as I watched tears roll down his weathered cheeks. With each year more are given, more are stored away to be unwrapped again the following year. Each season brings a new appreciation, the changes each year brings has a way of deepening the significance of each little snippet in time.

Each year the Christmas story was read in our house. The quiet that settled on our living room while dad read it aloud from the book of Luke, was like an expanse of time frozen still, creating a walkway for us to enter the exchange of presents with a bit more appreciation. A check to our childish motives that led us to proceed a bit more cautiously in our self centered desire to rip away the paper and ribbon. Order was established and the recollections now of Christmas mornings are more littered with memories of what my siblings were opening than what was in those boxes bearing my own name.

Even the unhappy moments are kept. The first Christmas without a loved-one, the Christmases we hungered for those who weren’t there. The lean years when a dress we already owned was altered a bit and wrapped as a gift. When going back to school and hearing what everyone else got was a bit of a torture not knowing if I should make something up or just spout my list of two items enthusiastically, in hopes no one noticed how insignificant they sounded. Maybe that is why the tangible gifts of childhood have never held the prominence that the intangibles have had. How much more brilliant the sound of Silent Night being sung with my grandmother’s alto resonating through the room shines in my mind than does the scarf and matching mittens I had specifically asked for. The comparisons weren’t so stark at the time, but as I am unwrapping my gifts this season, I am once again amazed at how unmemorable the things have become and how unrelenting the joy will always be.

I am struck too, that I am wrapping gifts for my children that far surpass their lists of toys. Each tradition, each moment we include them in, from moving the furniture so we have room for a tree, to placing the star at the top and plugging the lights in for the first time, my children are storing the intangible gifts of Christmases to come. I could focus on all that shines in their eyes right now, or I can pave a path for them, showing them how to appreciate each other, how to give in secret, how to look for the little things and overlook the ignorance of greed and selfishness. There are people all around us, beyond our children who need these gifts. Lonely people who are searching for meaning, understanding and love during this time of year. Are we wrapping gifts beyond tangible things for others? What happened to Christmas caroling? What happened to visiting neighbors with a plate of cookies? Are we too busy putting lights on our house to put a light in someone’s eyes?

I love Christmas. I love the miracle of Christ’s birth and His humble introduction to earth. I love His story, His God Love encased in man flesh. His great commission to do His Father’s will was a gift we unwrap continuously as we discover it’s perfect harmony with our own desires. That is the gift I am determined to re-gift this year.

Since my early teen years I have been fascinated with these words from Luke 2. Maybe it stood out because my name is Mary too, but whatever the reason it has inspired me to wrap up the greatest gifts over and over year after year. I hope you will too.

Luke 2:19 “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

Merry Christmas!