GIFT

 

Magic happened this Christmas.

It was under the tree, but I didn’t put it there.

It was at the feast, but I didn’t bake it.

It was in the music, but I was not singing.

It was a mighty lesson. I finally paid attention.

Life happened.

Death came in threes; ignoring deadlines, plans, and preparations- but gifting perspective.

The control freak, planner, executor- awakened to the 48-Hours-'til-Christmas-Crunch-Time in a humbling fog of heartache. Doer was forced to become teacher.

Kids did not simply frost cookies. They poured and measured, cut and baked.

Kids did not simply roll meatballs for the Christmas lasagna. They learned to mix meat and crumbs, to spice and stack.

Kids did not simply run down the stairs to discover piles of beautifully wrapped gifts on Christmas morning. They boxed and tucked, taped and ribboned.

Kids did not simply tear open gifts to discover treasures inside. They planned, purchased, and wrapped gifts for each other- without any suggestion or help.

Christmas dinner company was arriving, and I looked up from the stovetop. Clutter had disappeared. Tablecloths and napkins were ironed. Place settings were set. Floors were swept and scrubbed. Chandelier sparkled, candles glowed.

The kids who I usually carry on my shoulders had rescued me.

 
Rescued Christmas.

Tragedy briefly shuttered my heart this Christmas. It also opened my eyes. My incessant doing was taking away from my kids’ learning to do for themselves. My incessant doing was keeping my kids from learning to do without me.  

Should life happen.

Late Christmas night, as I rinsed the last goblet and handed it to my daughter to dry, she reflected, “Christmas is so different now, Mom. Not like when we were young, and we dreamed about Santa and all the gifts he’d bring.”

I looked into her not quite adult eyes, and saw a flash of child. “Yes, you’re all older now," I agreed. "But it’s so much more fun! Santa didn't bring the best gifts for Christmas. You and your brothers and sister brought them: drum sticks from Disney, college t-shirts, a bobble-head goalie, certificates for lunch and a stroll through the art gallery. The presents you bought for each other were the best gifts under the tree. You made all the Christmas magic!”

  
A month ago, as the Christmas season began, I was wishing that my Christmas gift list still included Playdough, Legos and dress-up.

I longed for a Kid Christmas, and that is exactly what I got.

My kids did Christmas. Magnificently. All these years while I was doing, they were watching. I fell into the wings, and they stepped up as the Main Act. I forgot the words to the songs, and they sang them for me. Startling and thrilling to observe.

For eighteen years, Christmas has been about my kids. This year, my kids gave Christmas back to me.

Channeling Dickens, I shall honor that gift in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

QUING Hereby Decrees:  It's Christmastide.  Much, much love to you and yours.