You will have to bear in mind this entry is my opinion, unsolicited by you, offered freely (big savings), and meant to clear my mind without changing yours (although it would be lovely if you allowed that to happen). Think and do as you will. I just want to get this off my chest!
Bett and I would spend part of our playtime in imaginary games. One of our favorites was “I’m Hiding”. The “hider” would choose a spot to hide (i.e. behind the tree in the painting over the sofa). The seeker would then be allowed to guess and the hider could choose to give clues. Bett, and later, Belle would often change their hiding places so seeking was a mental strain. Another favorite game was “For Me?” This was a special game and we could play for a long time without either of us wanting to stop.
I would offer Bett a gift. She would press her hands over her heart and say, “For Me?” I would place an imaginary box in her lap, my gestures indicating the size and the weight. Her next question would always be, “Is it fragile?” I would affirm or deny. This would indicate how she would open it. Bett would then commence untying a bow, carefully removing wrap without tearing it (sometimes peeling tape for long minutes), then lift a lid or pull open flaps, remove tissue paper, and then tell me what was inside the box. She would smile around her “nook” and give me a gift in return. When Belle was born and had reached the ripe old age of two, we were still playing our game. One day, we had exchanged gifts and Belle had watched the whole process. She would lean over and look in Bett’s empty lap, then my empty lap. Each time we got excited over what was in the box that wasn’t there, she would shake her head. We held out a gift for her. Belle’s eyes opened wide; she looked like she wanted to cry. She shoved our empty hands away and said, “Stupid!” Later, she learned to play along with us but not as enthusiastically as we.
Once at a women’s correctional facility, I explained the game and asked them if they wanted to play. I handed the first woman a gift and she opened hers, then passed a gift to the woman next to her. Rubies, diamonds, cars, houses, husbands, spilled out of those boxes. There was laughter, but like Belle, they were suspicious. The boxes contained frivolous or practical things.
At a men’s correctional facility, I was co-teaching with Helen. We had perhaps ten men in our small group. We had a program to follow and a Bible study to do, but once or twice during the nine-month period that we met with the men, we would reward solid effort and diligence on their part with a “party”. No food or beverage, but we would devise games and conversation that rewarded them for lessons finished on time. This group of men was hard working, but they were not accepting of one another as early in the study as we would like. I asked if we could try the gift-giving game. I explained it with Helen and I making eye contact for how the idea was being accepted.
G was sitting next to me and said, “Can I please go first? I know just what’s in my gift. Can I stand up? It’s big!” We nodded and he jumped to his feet. He tore into a very large box and threw his arms around something. “It’s my dog!” he said. “I miss him so much! I’d just love to give him a hug and have him sleep at the foot of my bunk!” Each man willingly joined in. There were no diamonds, but there were practical things, things they had given up for their pursuits on the outside that landed them inside. There were wives who had chosen divorce rather than wait for release dates in those boxes. There were free hours to spend with children who would be grown up when dad was released. J said, “My whole family is in there. We have a good family but we are all over the place and I will never see them all in one room again. Mom and my brothers are in a far-away state, my daddy is in another country deported because he was here illegally. I don’t get visits, but I’m taking my box back to my cube because they are all in there.” We all were reflective awhile. J had such a contented peaceful expression. Finally, the last man opened his gift. After that evening, the group was more cohesive, they had bonded.
Today as I write, the day is referred to as “Black Friday”. Greedy people in high places have found yet another way to open their stores at exceptional hours so other people (possibly just as greedy) will part with money they suffered much to put in their pockets in the name of gift giving, holiday spirit, and savings. Yeah. Right. Some people walked away from time with family to sit like homeless on the streets to wait for store doors to open at midnight. The large difference is that the homeless don’t have the luxury of the sleeping bags, warm coats, caps, mittens, and full bellies of those waiting outside various stores. In many cases, talking to these people in the harsh light and heat of summer, will reveal the bargains weren’t so great, the gifts were returned after the holiday, and the money might have helped more with a home or car repair that was necessary after the BIG SALE!
Have you ever noticed when a business or a financial institution has a major year, the people who performed to bring in the largess rarely see improvement in their lot. They are, however, encouraged to rejoice with the CEO, CFO, President, and Vice President over the six and seven figure amounts increasing their income. Thus the cycle is repeated in ever increasing circles of greed until the economy crashes. Then we have large sales to “stimulate the economy”. Over simplification is one of my strong suits, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.
Why would anyone want to leave home and fireside, act like those who have no home and fireside, to enter the doors of retail to be battered, bumped, bruised, robbed and otherwise mistreated to arrive home with “stuff”? Even a minor sale intimidates me. I have had things I was looking at pulled out of my hands. I once watched a woman actually remove a toy from another woman’s cart while said “another woman” was distracted looking at other sale items. The first woman whisked around a rack of clothing and was on her merry (?) way. I also once had my head whacked solidly by a door because the woman behind me wanted to be in front of me! No thank you. I’ll stay home where my toes are not stepped on, my head is not in your way, and my body can escape bruising.
To those of you who say you enjoy it. Great! Have a nice day. Feel good about your accomplishment. Give ‘til it hurts! Don’t worry about those you elbowed, jostled, or possibly knocked over; they most likely deserved it in return for someone they treated the same way! As we push into the season of giving, and shove our way into diluting the message of the “holidays”, what do we think we accomplish?
I have become accustomed to those merchandise marts where the dictate is to greet the customer or send off the customer with “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings”. Generic? Yes. But what does it mean? Possibly the former includes Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and Christmas (so not so all inclusive as you might want to think). Season’s Greetings? What does that mean? “Happy Last Leaf Is Raked”, “Have A Wonderful First Flake Day”, “There’s No Snow Or Ice Yet (but duck it’s sure to come)” are possibilities and Season’s Greetings is shorter to say. I would find it difficult to work in retail. I would forget and use the MC words to customers. At a particular store, their decorated artificial trees are known as “holiday trees” or “winter trees”. If someone came in asking me where to find the Christmas Trees, I would have to say, “We don’t sell them, you might want to try other box stores to see if they carry them.” I just would not be good at the “all inclusive replacement phrases”.
I digress a little here, because I have a wonderful story. Some Jewish friends of ours had a son who was born with Downs Syndrome. He loved the Hanukkah traditions and they celebrated their time with him to the full. He also liked Christmas lights so they trimmed a “Hanukkah Bush”. His favorite thing about that time of year, was Christmas music; extravagant, glorious, larger than life Handel and Bach. So every Christmas Eve, they took him to midnight Mass at a local, large Catholic Church. I just had to share.
There is One Gift. Merry Christmas does not sum up that gift except for six letters in certain order contained therein. The original “merry” means drunkenness and dissiplation, a party hearty attitude. Christmas refers to a Mass given in honor of Christ. Jesus’ exact birth date is unknown, but He became a reason to celebrate. God incarnate, He came to us meek and gentle as a child. Angeles sang about him, Shepherds believed and sought Him and relayed what they found to others. Wise men also believed and sought and found. He became a sign of Hope for more than anything offered in this life, a promise fulfilled. He went on to pay for every wrong perpetrated by humans past, present, and future; for those who choose to believe, Christ is Who He says He is. You don’t have to accept the Gift. Free choice! Once you accept THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL, you have to peel back the layers of beautiful wrappings to find what is inside for you. Look at it, discover it, hold it dear, consider it precious. Be careful. There is no “sale tag” the cost is high. You must give everything to get this gift. Once you possess the gift, the Gift possesses you. You may give away the Gift to others, many others, over and over, repeatedly. You are encouraged to do so; your pockets will not be gouged. Your heart will be filled to overflowing!
One other caution I would offer. Accepting this gift carries an eternal warranty and guarantee. Your soul is cleansed, you have reserved for you a mansion in God’s house of many mansions. However, in this lifetime there will still be heartache and struggles. Disease is real and strikes Christians as well as non-believers. Christians are human and may still commit blunders of rudeness, anger, etc. Family differences can still disrupt harmony. Friends may turn their backs. Life decisions may become more difficult to determine because you will be an adopted child of God with the high standards of your Older Brother, Jesus, to live up to.
No matter how much the world seeks to dilute, destroy, or pervert God’s Gift, it continues to increase in strength and luster. It does not tarnish, nor fade, nor chip, nor crack, and there are no refunds or trades. While so many have it, there is always more to be given. For those who seek, it becomes crystal clear. For those in deep need it may come out of nowhere and confront in your darkest hour. Hold out your hands, peek inside, believe.
I want to say to you: Good wishes during this time of celebration! May your Christmas be blessed! May you choose to accept the Gift. Merry Christmas!
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