The gift

Here it is that time of year again. It’s a mad dash to get the next big thing. All while stressing to almost a meltdown. Every store is packed. People bumping into others, trying to find that special gift for little bobby sue. It’s working overtime, spending hardly any time as a family, snapping at every small detail. As a child, it is hard to understand why grown ups get frustrated during this joyous season. Maybe they have the right mindset. Why do we put ourselves through all this for maybe 2 hours on Christmas morning? I mean it isn’t as if we would be doing the same thing next year. You would think it was perfected by now. Well in my case, it isn’t even close. 

I am so used to asking my children for a list of what they want, of course after a few times of asking, they respond. This year is different. I asked for a list but I do not believe at this point I have received a response. I believe this is a great sign. I wondered why my parents never asked for a list and I think I know why now. As grown ups, my parents got us mostly things for the house and a personal gift. Seemed they always got these items which came more from the heart. I realized each gift, personal or for the household, was fitting for each of the 3 children in my family. It showed how much our parents know us. By asking what we want is specific but you can always find something for each person on the things they love, as well as things they need. 

Now looking back, it is kind of a boring task to have a list of already decided gifts. Since I have not received a response yet, I get to pick and choose based on what I believe each of my children like. It is very challenging. I want to surprise with something they will maybe laugh and keep because it is straight from my heart or maybe shed a tear because I did give it thought. I probably won’t get either but I am OK with that because I know with just a look and a smile mean. 

Seeing so many different things these days and such selfish acts and entitlement thoughts; morals, character, respect and humility should be the big priced gifts. I like to believe we raised our kids to not to expect glamorized gifts. I hope we have raised them to know that family time, blood or not, it is the real gift of the holidays. So many families have someone they know, who is alone this time of year. Which could be due to some mistake they are making or something has happened between that person and others in the family. I think more of those who become flooded with grief and depression this time of year, might be able to see the true meaning of happiness and not so much hurt. 

Not to mention, how about the soul filling gift. A hug, kind word, helping hand, a praise, etc., those are all the greatest gifts of all. Imagine if we, as today’s society, not the past, could mend our broken relationships, all the outpouring of love would surround us. Can’t you see the glow from house to house? The Christmas lights wouldn’t have a chance. Such happiness is out there and yes, we are all guilty of allowing our pride between those we love and have hurt. How freeing and peaceful and inspiring would this be?

This lesson I have learned here is to forgive and give the gift of forgiving. As I continue my pursuit of looking for the gifts this Christmas, I will keep in my mind the healing of a few relationships. Because in the end, the most important gift in the world is the gift of each others time. Something money can not buy. So give the gift of forgiveness to those family relationships that need mending. Gather together, spend that precious time, which money can not replace and enjoy the bond of love spreading through your home.


#poem  #poetry  #blog


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s