Photo Credit: Stephen Jones

I have a few long-ago memories of being struck with a distinct feeling of, “Whoa, I’m like a grownup!”

The first was the first time I used the word, “husband” in a sentence.  I was all of 19 years old, still a baby, and I had to tell a cashier at a supermarket that I’d accidentally left my wallet with my (brand-new) husband.  It felt ridiculous to say it, and I wanted to giggle at the words.  My husband.

The second time was when I began paying our household bills as a married couple.  I remember thinking it was fun… writing the checks, stamping the envelopes, sending them off. I shared my feeling with my mom, and she laughed at me, saying, “Oh you’ll get over it!” Except I didn’t.  Twenty years later, and as long as we have the money in the bank to pay said bills, I still really enjoy paying them (although I pay them online now).  I have this whole gratitude thing that I do, and I really don’t take for granted the blessing of being able to pay our debts each month.

But the one that will forever stand out is the year that as I looked forward to the Christmas season, I realized that I was more excited about giving gifts than I was about receiving them.

I adore Christmas.  I always have.  I remember as a kid, Christmas day would mean presents at home, followed by traveling to one of set of grandparents and then another.  I loved the visiting.  Loved the energy.  Loved running around with my relatives.  Loved the music.  Loved the food.

And I loved the presents.

Then somewhere along the way, something shifted.  And it’s not that I no longer enjoy presents.  I do. It feels good to be on the receiving end of a thoughtful gift.  There’s just something… powerful… about giving to others, whether it’s through giving your time, your service, or in some tangible way.  That’s the magic of Christmas that I want to pass on to my kids.

The best thing about giving is that it’s not discriminatory.  Some of the most generous people I know have very little money to call their own.  But oh, how they give!   Those people inspire me, and make me want to be a better person.

Mike and I stopped doing Christmas presents for each other several years ago, both because we tend to save up and get whatever it is we want/need throughout the year, but also because we just find more meaning in spending that money on someone else.  At first we donated money to various charities, and/or bought gifts through those giving trees that they have at places like Target and grocery stores.  One year though, we had some friends who had a need that we were able to fill, so we did so, anonymously.  And that year changed how we did Christmas.

Deciding as a family who we want to gift is far and away my favorite part of the holiday now. Yes, I still adore spending it with my family.  Love watching my kids open presents.  Love the visiting.  Love the energy.  Love running around with my relatives.  Love the music.  Love the food.

But all of that is just a beautiful added bonus.

And now when December hits, and I get caught up in the stress and the hubbub and the craziness of the season (which, if you read my blog, you know I’ve struggled with year after year) … I think of giving, in whatever way I can.  I think of ways I can bless someone else.  I think of the Grinch.

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

And suddenly the hubbub isn’t so important anymore.