What I Would Like for Christmas

The Christmas of my seventh year is one that changed life for me. Though I was young, the effect of the experience left a profound mark and is one that I have never forgotten.

My house was led by a single mother who had nearly no money to spend after paying for living expenses. We had no car and little food or clothing. Often in the winter time, we would go to bed in our coats and hats because heating the home over night cost too much. Due to the economics of our home, each year, Christmas came and went without much pomp, circumstance, presents or even feasting. Thinking about it now, the first time I ever traded gifts in a family setting was after I was married and had a family of my own.

As a seven year old boy, I looked forward to holidays. Though I knew there would be nothing much given to me—or anything at all—there was something energetic in the air that caused excitement in everyone.

“Mom, when can we have a tree?”

“We can’t afford one.”

A few days later, “Mom, when can we have a tree?”

“We can’t afford one.”

A few days after that, “Mom, when can we have a tree?”

“We can’t afford one.”

My mother and I had this type of conversation every other day from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  

On Christmas Eve, at about 700 pm, my mother gathered us in the living room. We knelt on the floor, from oldest to youngest and each took a turn reciting the Lord’s Prayer. After we finished, though it was early in the night, my mother put us in warm clothing and sent us off to bed.

From 730 pm to about 1000 pm, I lay awake and thought about a tree for Christmas. All of a sudden a thought hit me and I jumped out of bed. I woke my older brother up and told him that I knew where we could get a tree. Sleepily he followed me out of the house. Our mother was deaf, so we often stirred about at night knowing that she would never hear us.

We walked for 3/4 of a mile to our local elementary school. There in the front lobby, surrounded by windows stood the object I sought: a 14 foot fully adorned Christmas tree.

My brother and I walked around the school building looking for a way in. I don’t remember how, but we managed to enter a side door that led into the lunchroom/gym. We walked to the lobby, grabbed the tree and carried outside. Once outside, we put it on our shoulders and carried it home. My brother was scared and angry. Me? I was proud of myself and I beamed all the way home.

When we brought the tree up to the front door, I opened the door and we both pulled the tree inside, starting from the top. Because we started from the wrong end, it took forever to pull the resisting tree inside. Each time a limb caught on the door frame, we would just pull harder. Several ornaments were destroyed, the garland torn and other decorations were smashed. The whole event created a lot of noise—and my brother and I yelled quite a bit at each other while we struggled. However, since Mom was deaf, no one interrupted us.

A 14 foot tree doesn’t fit in a living room with 9 foot ceilings very well. Once the tree was in, we jammed the top into a corner and let the base rest about 6 feet from the wall. What a sight! I was so proud!

Though we had violated several state and possibly federal laws, I couldn’t have been happier. When I went back to bed, covered in needles and tree sap, I lay down and just smiled. The only thing I could think to utter was, “Happy Birthday, Jesus!”

And then it hit me. A feeling of warmth washed over me and I began to know the spirit of Christmas. It was Jesus Christ and nothing else. Though I was only seven, I felt my soul grow and in that moment I knew more than anything else, that Christmas was not a tree, presents, food, candy or fun. It was all about God’s gift to us and that gift was Jesus Christ.  

We had spent several days attending various church events over the previous week and Paul’s testimony came to mind, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.” A song that we sang often rang in my mind as well:

No way, we are not ashamed, of the gospel or His name. Holy hands are lifted high, to the name of Jesus Christ…

Every Christmas since, full of gifts and food or not, has had the same meaning to me:  No way, we are not ashamed, of the gospel or His name. Holy hands are lifted high, to the name of Jesus Christ… I hum the tune every year and hum it now as I type.

As I have grown and have spent more time thinking about Christmas, I have decided on the 4 gifts that I want to have each year:

Gift of Prophesy

Gift of Revelation

Gift of Giving

Gift of having Virtue

Prophesy is the testimony of Christ--knowing that He is the Son of God. Prophesy is knowing that He is the Savior and Redeemer of mankind. Prophesy is knowing that without Christ, there is no hope and no Eternal Life.

Revelation knows the current will of heaven at all times and in all places. No matter the circumstance, good or bad, it is knowing that I am loved and cared for by my Father in heaven and that he wants for my best at all times.

I want to be a giver. I want to give freely of my time, talent, strength, means, knowledge, love and of all I have.  I feel joy and strength in giving.

Having the gift of virtue is a life cleanly lived. I want to protect virtue and encourage it in all things. Integrity and fidelity is virtue. I want to live without guilt.

Prophesy, Revelation, Giving and Virtue; though it all started with stealing a decorated tree, these gifts are what I would like to have every Christmas.