Christmases Past

As my mother sends in money and purchases an assortment of gifts to donate to children through various charities this Christmas, I can't help but be reminded of my own childhood Christmas memories, or lack thereof. My family has never been one to celebrate events or hold holiday parties, and Christmas is no exception. Yet every year, my mother mourns for the ill-fated children whose families are to poor to meet all of their Christmas wishes. She will go out of her way to get just the right gift for these poor children that she has never even met. Although this altruistic giving is something to be admired, it has always made me just a little bit sick inside.

You see, I never received just the right gift, never had a joyful Christmas morning, never was there even a Santa Claus for me. There was never much concern for if I got anything or not. Sure, I usually had something to unwrap: some candy, maybe discount clothes, or something picked up from a clearance rack. But never anything meaningful.

So while all of my friends got Barbies and video games and visions of sugar plums, I got... nothing, really. It's not that they had no money. It's not that they were unable to buy me an actual gift. They just didn't care enough to.

Perhaps I'm selfish. Maybe I just need to remind myself that it is better to give than to receive. Christmas is certainly the time of year to remember that God has given me all I need anyway. Things like this, though, have a way of sticking with you. Crazy, huh?