Frankly Speaking

My earliest memories of Christmas shopping are good ones. I was small, the Toys R Us cart was big, and the task my parents presented was simple: Fill this with toys – anything in this aisle that looks like fun!

The items we bought were never for me. They weren’t for my sister, my cousins or the kids down the street. They were destined for families who were counting on us to lend Santa a hand.

We got it. Even then, as small as we were. Whether it was a good year, and the cart was full, or whether it was a tighter year, and we were more selective in our choosing – the message was clear. Christmas is never really about “us”. It’s about helping someone else feel special, and loved.

That’s who my parents are. That’s the reason our Christmas dinner table has often had a few “extras” seated around it. From newly divorced mums and dads, trying to get through the  holiday on their own, to young people whose families were far away, families from around the corner that we hardly knew and basically anyone else who mentioned not having a dinner to attend. Between the passing of the stuffing and the carving of the turkey and the singing of the carols, the message was always clear here, too.

As an adult, I’m doubly lucky. I’ve found a  man who understands all I ever really want is something that reminded him of me. And like me, his parents taught him, too, that the first presents are for those who need them most, and the dining room table always boasts an open invitation to anyone and everyone.

There are certain inalienable truths about Christmas. Malls will get crazy. Schedules can be exhausting. James Taylor’s Christmas CD should never be listened to alone under any circumstances. But beyond the craziness and the business and the inordinately nostalgic songs, comes the magic.

Throughout the year – but especially at Christmas – each of us has the power to create a little magic for someone else. A toy for a child who wouldn’t otherwise receive one. A seat at t the table for someone who wouldn’t otherwise have  one. A firm belief in our ability to help one another, no matter what, because at the end of the day, Christmas isn’t about us at all. It’s about what you can do for someone else.

This is our last Christmas as a family of two. But I already know the first gift I’ll give Katie next Christmas. The tradition of giving to others first – at Christmastime, and other times, too. Not for the credit or the pat on the back. But because that’s what this holiday is really for.