It’s almost Christmas. “Gingle Bells,” “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” and many other popular Christmas songs are being played in the background of every store. “It’s a Wonderful Life” will soon be on tv. But don’t worry, if you miss it the first time, it will be shown again and again.
And then there’s the oh so many parties with an overabundance of food and drink, to be followed by weeks of dieting. After all, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. At least for some. But, not for others.
Growing up, I was one of those ‘others.’ My family was too poor to provide much in the way of gifts. Some of what we received was donated by our local church. But then for years, my aunt would travel three hours to our home in upstate New York bearing gifts of pajamas, toys and candy. Those were the Merry Christmases. But then she stopped visiting when I was about twelve. The Christmas gifts we received were once again those donated by our local church.
In my early twenties, I was longing to be married. At Christmas it seemed everyone either had a spouse, or a special someone to celebrate the holidays with and to spoil them with Christmas gifts. Afterward, they would brag about all the gifts they received. This made the holidays more difficult.
When I was twenty-six, and still single, I experienced my saddest Christmas ever. It was the first Christmas without my younger brother who died nine months earlier unexpectedly from a viral infection that attacked his heart. But we decided to celebrate Christmas in spite of that loss. I had had my family over that day for dinner and to exchange gifts. But once they left, I was back to being sad on Christmas. I knew it wasn’t just because of my brother’s death, or because there were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but because the emptiness inside seemed overwhelming. Something was missing.
That evening as I lay in bed, I remembered a conversation I recently had with a friend who had just become a Christian. I pondered what she told me about the real meaning of Christmas. It was something I was taught while attending religious elementary school. She reminded me that God gave His greatest gift to every one of us two thousand years ago with the birth of his Son. Right then and there I gave my life to Christ, the one who gave his life for me. It was the absolute turning point in my life, and it hasn’t been the same since.
Christmas holds new meaning for me. Not because I’ve been married for thirty-one years and no longer spend it alone. Or because I know I’ll see my brother again someday when I go to Heaven. But because I’ve received the greatest gift of all.
Luke 2:10-11 says, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”
No monetary gift can top that.
Mary Therese Hutchinson 