Giving What Really Matters
As a five-year-old, I pressed my nose against the Western Auto window and fell in love. There it sat—the shiniest red Radio Flyer wagon I’d ever seen. Its chrome hubcaps practically winked at me, whispering, “Take me home.” At least that’s what my little-kid brain heard.
Christmas was simpler then. My friends and I came from similar working-class homes. If things were going well, we each got one “big” gift and a couple of practical ones—tube socks, a flannel shirt, maybe a dress shirt for church.
As years passed, the dream in the window changed: a Red Ryder BB gun, a Matchbox racetrack, model airplanes and ships, then a bicycle. Eventually the dreams outgrew my parents’ budget. I saved lawn-mowing money for a candy-red English racer while they supplied smaller gifts that matched whatever I’d bought myself.
Once I was old enough to earn real money and stopped making the lopsided clay ashtrays, I settled into my own gift-giving routine. For Dad: handkerchiefs and Old Spice aftershave. For Mom: L’origan perfume, (she never changed brands), a box of chocolate-covered cherries, and one unique item I’d hunted for all year.
Yet our tree was never buried in presents—two or three gifts each, that was it. What we lacked in quantity, we made up for in generosity toward others. Mom baked for neighbors. We filled food boxes for families in need. Dad spent evenings in the garage restoring donated toys for children who might otherwise wake up to nothing.
That’s what my parents taught me Christmas is really about: using whatever God has given you to lift someone else up.
For me, those gifts turned out to be music and acting. Every December I sang at church or performed at nursing homes, watching eyes light up brighter than any string of tree lights.
Christmas doesn’t require big price tags. Sometimes the best giving is simply sharing whatever talent, time, or kindness you have to offer.
This season, I hope you discover the deeper joy that comes from giving quality instead of quantity—and from meeting needs rather than feeding wants.
May the bliss of Christmas find you in the giving.
