Christmas this year brought with it–as it always does–some mixed blessings.
This year, money seemed to be even tighter than usual in my household, so as a result, my wife and I agreed to scale back on the presents we typically lavish upon our children. Not because we wish to deprive them of anything, but more because we want to teach them that Christmas–and life in general–is not about accumulating material things. Especially when, in Christmases past, our children are so inundated with excessive presents, that most of them go sadly unnoticed. So when I offered to do the shopping for our three kids this year, the gauntlet was thrown by my wife to provide them with a satisfactory Christmas at a modest budget, and I accepted the challenge willingly.
So I spent the morning of my first day off for the holidays making a valiant attempt at doing so. And, if I may say so, I believe I succeeded. I bought nothing extravagant for any of them; instead, I sought out more modest, personal gifts that if not at least practical, they were specifically chosen with my children’s respective tastes in mind. Some such examples include: art supplies for my oldest son who loves to draw (pads of paper, pencils, erasers, and colored pencils–all acquired rather cheaply); a modest, easy-to-use mp3 player for my daughter who loves music; storybooks and activity books for my youngest son who has discovered letters of the alphabet everywhere and loves reading and to be read to. And added to that mix, I threw in some action figures and other toys for my oldest son, some books, a CD, and a DVD for my daughter, and some Play-Doh, Thomas the Tank Engine toys, and Hot Wheels for my youngest. Again, nothing excessive, just gifts specifically chosen for each based on what they like.
So there it was, a modest yet still reasonably plentiful Christmas for my children–especially when compared to other less fortunate families who have so much less than we do. I also made a point to preach to my children at every opportunity the value of friends and family over amassing material things, and I think my oldest daughter got the message.
Then, on Christmas Eve, we received a mysterious phone call from an anonymous caller, imitating Santa Claus, who–before hanging up–instructed us to look on our front porch. When I opened the front door, I discovered a large red cloth bag literally stuffed with presents for my children. Needless to say, they were delighted while I remained somewhat wary.
Upon further investigation, my wife and I both deduced who the secret Santa was: our neighbor friends who live across the street. They have always shown themselves to be thoughtful, generous people on countless occasions, and this act was of course no exception.
However…
While I truly appreciated such a thoughtful and generous gesture, I was also disturbed by it. I didn’t really want or need anyone to “come to our rescue” and “save Christmas” for us–especially because I felt we did just fine, and I was pleased with the gifts I had selected for my kids, modest though they were. Sure, I would have liked to spoil them a little more than I was able to (what parent doesn’t?), but I was also trying to temper that tendency toward over-indulgence with the ideal that we as a society place too much emphasis on the accumulation of material wealth–and Christmas is the showcase holiday for that type of excess. And what is so wrong about teaching my children to appreciate what they have vs. seeking out the next thing to buy? What’s the lyric from Sheryl Crow’s “Soak Up the Sun”?
It’s not having what you want
It’s wanting what you’ve got.
And I was hoping to teach them that this Christmas. Besides, we were together as a family for the holidays–and that is what really matters, isn’t it?
Now, I may come across as sounding like an ungrateful Scrooge–and I don’t mean to. I was genuinely touched by the fact that our neighbors thought of us and were so generous of their time and money to help give us the Christmas that they thought we should have–and that’s the crux of my whole dilemma. They can well afford to lavish material gifts on their kids, and that is fine for them; it is their choice and their right to do so–they’ve certainly earned it–and perhaps they feel that every family should have an equally extravagant Christmas. And while I may not be the wealthiest and best financial provider for my family, I am not lazy; I work hard at what I do, often taking side jobs to make ends meet a little easier, and I do the best I can balancing my career with being a father and a husband. And if that means that I don’t make an extravagant salary, then so be it. My hope all along, since the birth of my daughter almost 12 years ago, has been that my children will have something far more valuable when they are older: memories of time I spent with them–both good and bad, for better or worse; the knowledge that I wasn’t a stranger to them because I worked long hours and weekends so I could afford all the latest and shiniest toys and gadgets. That instead, I was there for them when they needed me–and even when they didn’t want me around–to help with their homework, share meals, read them stories, take them to the park, and throw the football around on a sunny fall afternoon.
But I digress…
So I guess that’s why I didn’t embrace the generous outpouring of gifts from my neighbors as much as I probably should have–even though I still appreciated the gesture immensely. And that’s just it: I appreciated the gesture–not the excess. I would have felt just as blessed–perhaps more so–if they had filled a small stocking with cheap candy for each of them and brought them over in person, so we could have shared a holiday moment together.
Ironically, the same neighbor paid us a visit on Christmas night, bearing yet more gifts: plastic lap desks for each of the kids, each painted with his or her name and artwork suited to their tastes. It was a simple, thoughtful, creative gesture that meant far more to me than all the other store-bought presents they bestowed upon us the night before.
I must confess that I’m still a little unsettled by the whole thing, but I’m trying to get past it and focus on their generous gesture. For–as I preached to my children–life is not about the quantity, but the quality–even when it has to do with appreciating the generosity of others.