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I’ll be celebrating my 63rd Christmas this month. I’m feeling that qualifies me as a Christmas expert. I approach this season with great hope and renewed expectations. I’ve never been the type to dread holidays. In fact, I seek to prolong them. As the kids (and now grandkids) dive under the tree to sort gifts, I quietly stash a few far up in the tree or under the sofa. I do this so I can open the last gift, sometimes not until hours after the wrapping papers have been crunched into the recycling bin.

Why am I like this? Well, leaning on my three college credits of psychology, I’ve analyzed my behavior and have concluded – I’m not right.

So, I dive deep inside my memories to examine my childhood. Dredging up long forgotten memories I see clearly that each year, my hopes for THE present which would fulfill my greatest desires, would rise and rise as December 25th drew near, only to be dashed on Christmas morning.

I specifically remember a commercial showing a red toy car that moved with a blur of light when you shined a flashlight on it. It was featured prominently in between episodes of Bugs Bunny. I thought for sure I’d dropped enough hints and been a good enough boy that it was going to be mine. Christmas morning came and – the centerpiece present, the one not wrapped because it came from Santa’s workshop (not mom and dad) was, wait for it, a wood burning kit. Not a great toy on its own merit – an adolescent holding a smoldering soldering iron over a flammable piece of balsa wood? But the choice was even more dangerous in the hands of a disappointed, resent-filled kid.

Aside from this complete misfire, I find my fondest memories of Christmas are of our extended family playing games together like Password, Liverpool, and charades. We’d laugh to the point of crying. Sometimes building up one another’s confidence, and other times cheekily tearing each other down.

Seeing all this in my mind’s eye, it dawns on me it was Christmas presence not presents that buoyed my spirit.

As I grew to know the Scriptures, I realized the reason we traditionally exchange gifts is to imitate our receiving of God’s gift – the gift of His mercy and love through the giving of His Son, Jesus in exchange for our sins. Since man’s banishment from the garden of Eden, we hunger for reunion with God. We try to fill the “god shaped hole in our heart” as Pascal termed it. We might try achievement, recognition, or material goods, but I’ve found that until we do reunite with God, our relationships with other believers comes closest to filling this void. Healthy, supportive, Christ-centered relationships help ease the longing we have for a return to the Father. By focusing on being truly present during the holiday exchanges, we can take the pressure off getting the right present and be more mindful of the model we present for our family.

So please, don’t focus on the presents. Make Christmas about presence. Say loving, uplifting things and be even more encouraging than usual. The generosity of you actually expressing your warmth and feelings is far far more valuable than giving a loved one trinkets of gold.

My wife Lesley and I did take elaborate steps to make fun memories with our kids. Besides leaving behind a plate of half-munched cookies, Santa often left other evidence of his visit. A sooty boot print on the carpet one year and the next, he apparently got his coat snagged on the fireplace screen leaving a piece of red cloth behind. Another year, his gold rimmed glasses made a sparkling glint appear in the kids otherwise darkened bedroom just as they (tried to) fall asleep. He even left an 8×10 signed photograph one year. The jolly man became so real, my son worried Santa would startle him while he slept. To get him to finally go to sleep, I was forced to rig fishing line with aluminum cans tied to it across the stairway. This design that would certainly jangle and alert him to the jolly intruder well before he could reach his room. Between these touching stunts, reading the Bible‘s story of Jesus birth, and letting the kids take turns reading The Night Before Christmas, I’m sure they will hold onto these memories far longer than whatever presents we bought them. (The one bad behavior we seem to be carrying forward is my son and I now compete to see who can open the last present. I see that gift under your hoodie!)

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Writers Block