The Best Gifts

          An early memory of my grandmother was the task she would assign us after Thanksgiving dinner. She would sit us down with a paper and pencil and ask us for a list of presents we wanted for Christmas. The first time, I let my imagination wander, and listed several things that attracted my attention while browsing the Sears and Roebuck catalog. On Christmas morning, I was embarrassed to find that every single thing I had listed was under the tree for me, from Granny. Santa Claus was left with very little to bring. Many of the items had been just fleeting ideas, and while pulling off the ribbons and paper, I couldn’t recall asking for that particular toy or game.

          The next year, with a little more wisdom under my belt, I gave the list some thought, and only wrote down one thing. Granny provided prompts. “Maybe a nice dress?” she suggested, “Or, what about music? Write down some of your favorite songs.”

In my robe and slippers that December 25, I was glad to receive the special item I had wanted (though I certainly can’t remember what it was all these years later). The dress came from the finest department store in Granny’s city, and for each song I requested, she purchased the whole album, instead of the single I was expecting. One of the most popular songs of the day was a novelty piece called “Rubber Duckie”. True to form, I received the whole album of Sesame Street favorites. Since I was in 7^th grade that year, I am quite sure I was the only one of my friends who received that particular gift.

          I began to dread finishing my pumpkin pie. I wished that Granny would take my list as a suggestion, not a purchase order. I hated appearing ungrateful, but I also didn’t like having the rest of the family thinking I was asking for too much. So, I followed the lead of my older cousins, and asked Granny for cash so that I could do my own shopping. I felt a little regret. I think she really enjoyed the hunt, the quest to bring us exactly the items we had asked for, in the perfect color and size. But, come Christmas morning, I was truly grateful, and didn’t have to endure the scrutiny of the rest of the family as I opened present after present.

          Flash forward past years of struggling to provide our own children with at least one of the very special items they dreamed of. Santa always managed to come through somehow.

          At a time of my life when we are able to purchase most of what we need and want throughout the year, there are not a lot of things on my Christmas list these days.  My husband does know me very well, however. So, he enjoys picking out one particular gift that will always make me smile, an addition to the Christmas village that graces my entryway. This indulges my love of decorating, and also sparks my imagination. One day, a holiday book is bound to be set in my very own itty bitty town.

          My favorite gifts are much less expensive, but infinitely more satisfying. I was presented with some of them over the past holiday weekend. A six year old grandson took comfort in my lap after a long day of family celebration. A precious grand-daughter wanted to be involved with meal preparation, and loved to brag about the special cake she and her mom made for us. My increasingly sullen teenaged grand presented me with joyful laughter as he and I played a rousing game of air hockey. The nine-year old and his smaller cousin shared some heartfelt hugs as they headed for home.

          I am looking forward to a few more of these fabulous presents when we travel to see the newest member of the family. I can’t wait for those bright eyed giggles and sloppy kisses.

          I can’t help thinking that the happiness I feel at this time of year must be much like the emotions that surrounded that manger in Bethlehem so long ago. After centuries of stories were passed from one generation to another, God was fulfilling His promise to send a king. No one could predict exactly what would take place in the life of that little baby. But there was wild, unbridled joy in the air. So much amazement at the unbelievable gift they had been given. So much hope for the future. Joy to the World! Oh come let us adore Him!

          May you receive all of His best gifts this holiday season, and look forward to a bright and beautiful new year.

It All Makes Sense Now

We pulled up in the driveway of Granny’s house on a cold, moonlit Christmas Eve. Jumping and skipping to the front porch, we stomped our feet on the welcome mat to leave most of the snow outside, and opened the front door. Our cousins piled out of their own station wagon, and followed closely on our heels.

Strangely, Granny wasn’t dispensing hugs from her usual post just inside.  We slowed down a little, removing mittens and boots.

 “Good-bye Santa!” That was our grandmother’s voice, coming from the back of the house.

Like a herd of mustangs, we galloped through the living room, into the kitchen, and out onto the screened-in back porch. Granny was leaning out the screen door, waving. “Oh, my goodness. You just missed him.” Granny closed the door and wiped her hands on her apron.

We stood there for quite awhile, our noses plastered to the screens, peering into the starry sky hoping for a glimpse of the tail-lights on Santa’s sleigh.

 Granny’s loud farewell helped explain the fact that we were going to open presents soon after our arrival. None of this waiting till morning like most of the rest of the world. It was perfectly logical that Santa had to start his journey somewhere. We were just fortunate that Granny’s house was one of the first on his route.

A few Christmases later, I began to questions how Santa could sit in front of so many Christmas trees in so many parks and department stores across the country at the same time. This was my introduction to the idea of Santa’s helpers. I was perfectly happy giving my list of wants to an assistant, because I was confident they would be communicated to the big guy in plenty of time for Christmas. Still, there was always the chance that you would run into the boss himself.

One especially cold December day, my sister and I debated about whether this was the “real” Santa as we waited in line.

         “He’s not fat enough”

         “That beard looks fake.”

          “His glasses are too new.”

We hopped from one foot to the other, anticipating the candy cane and the cup of hot chocolate that awaited us after our brief visit. Just before I sat on his knee, the words from this velvet-clad man shocked me.

          “How are you, Jenny?” What? He knew my name?

          “I’ll be right with you, Toni.” And my sister’s name, too?

Okay, so this Santa’s helper might have been local. He may have known us from church, or he did business with my mom at the bank. The really strange thing though, was that he could tell us apart. Most people saw us when we were together, and didn’t bother keeping us straight. They said our name like one word, Toni-and-Jenny. But the real Santa would undoubtedly take the time to sort things out. Could it be?

As other kids my age stopped believing in Santa, I didn’t dare. After all, in all the stories and movies, the children who didn’t believe were very disappointed on Christmas morning. I couldn’t take the risk. Mom’s explanation made things easy for me. She said Santa was the Spirit of Christmas.  As far as I knew, a spirit wasn’t bound by normal rules, and used magic to get his mission accomplished. I was completely satisfied.

On a clear night long ago, a group of shepherds watched their flocks. Maybe the older men told stories around the fire. The younger ones probably scoffed at all the talk of a great king who would come to save their nation. Kings came and went, making rules and flaunting their wealth. What would make this king so special? One of the stories they’d heard even pinpointed the town the king would be born in. Bethlehem wasn’t a very regal place in those days.

Then, an amazing thing happened. The sky was filled with light and strange beings, singing praises to the Lord. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The men tried to hide in fright. But the angels told them that they had wonderful news. The long awaited king had been born, and a star would lead them to his birthplace. This was much more exciting than tending sheep!

When they arrived at the small stable in Bethlehem, everything was as the angel said. The tiny baby didn’t look much like a king. His mother and father were dressed just like regular people. Instead of a fancy bed in a palace, he was lying in a manger. It all made sense.

This is what was so special about the new king. He was just like us, just like those shepherds. This was the wonderful news that the angels had been singing about. The shepherds went on their way, telling everyone what they had seen. The great King had finally arrived!

May your Holidays be filled with joy as you remember the night that all of the pieces came together.

Merry Christmas.