“To Matthew, from Santa.” “Here!” His little boy face lit up with excitement, he reaches eagerly for the present his dad holds out.“Who is it from?” Chris asks, waiting to release his grip on the gift. “From Santa!” Hearing the answer he was waiting for, Chris hands over the gift and reaches for my hand, we both sit back with smiles, anticipating the reaction to a much-hoped-for gift as we watch him tear into the wrapping paper. The rest of Christmas morning passes slowly, gifts called out one by one, all of us drawn into the anticipation and excitement of gift-giving.
In the early years of our marriage, Chris and I talked about the Christmas traditions we wanted to either begin or carry on in our new family. Chris told stories about his family’s gift giving tradition – recalling how his grandfather, and then in later years, his father, would call out whatever was written on the gift tag, and wait for the receiver to say, “Here.” The rule was, if you didn’t say “here”, or couldn’t answer who the gift was from, (thereby demonstrating an unfortunate lack of attention,) then the gift went back under the tree. Of course, part of the fun of the game was trying to catch someone unaware, mumbling their name softly, or calling it out in the one moment they stepped out of the room. As our kids grew older, straightforward gift tags became “too easy”, and part of the fun in trying to catch someone not paying full attention became increasingly clever gift tags – which the receiver might not be able to accurately repeat. One of my all-time favorites a few years ago was this one, on a gift to me from our kids:
As I ponder these moments, I realize their significance extends beyond Christmas morning; these full-of-life moments have something to teach me about a way of being. The first had to do with play, which has become an important part of my recovery journey – recovering the playfulness that was lost somewhere in the fear-filled moments of my childhood. The sense of playfulness accompanying the giving of gifts is a key element in eliciting an experience of joy.
I find myself wondering about the areas of my life that could use some joy – what might it look like to begin being playful there?
How could bringing this sense of mischievous anticipation transform interactions that, right now, I hold with disappointment or despair?
The other realization was related to presence – on Christmas morning, everyone learned to stay fully present, otherwise they could miss out on a gift…at least for a time. Last week I was reminded how often I have to fight to be fully present. Matthew was graduating early from Hope College, and had invited us to attend a luncheon honoring all the December graduates. In addition to my dislike for social gatherings where I will have to make small talk with people I don’t know, I was feeling the weight of too many emotionally draining experiences in the past weeks. As I sat at that table, listening to the polite conversation going on around me, working hard to appear interested, but not interested enough that I might actually have to speak; I found myself wanting to escape. Internally, I was headed for my favorite chair at home, ready to curl up with a soft blanket and a warm beverage, shutting out the rest of the world.
And then I turned and looked at our son, animatedly talking with Chris about his favorite existential philosophers, and I thought “Be here now, you don’t want to miss this moment.”
This was, after all, another one of those key moments marking the transition from boyhood and dependence, to manhood and independence. I didn’t want to miss the significance of this moment; I wanted to pay close enough attention, to savor it long enough that it would be imprinted on my heart, able to be recalled when I needed a reminder of goodness. I did not want to miss out on this gift…even for a time.
As I told this story to my counselor a few days later, relaying my struggle to stay present for my son in the midst of all I was feeling, (a struggle with more than a little judgement attached) he responded, “You mean you were being human?” Oh…yes. Yes, I was. Yes, I am. And yes, I will continue to be. There will continue to be some gifts that I don’t answer “Here!” to quickly enough; and I can still rest, knowing that they don’t disappear forever. If I pay attention long enough, they will make another appearance, perhaps in a moment when I am more fully able to receive the delight intended for me by the gift-giver. And those are absolutely stories worth telling.
Janet Stark is a woman learning to bless her depth and sensitivity. She is grateful for the deep love she shares with her husband, Chris and their kids and grandkids. Janet loves curling up with a good book, trying new recipes on her friends and family, and enjoying long conversations with friends over a cup of really good coffee. She is a life-long lover of words and writes about her experiences here.
Many times I wish the time stay frozen so I can savor the good moments for a lifetime. Very inspiring post. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for your kind reply. Yes, I am with you on wanting to savor those moments for a lifetime!
I am deeply challenged by your article. Yesterday we went to see Rogue One with little’s to bigs, a college girl newly OFF the train. I felt a heaviness descend, familiar companion to the realm of play. I had to remind myself to “be here now.”
Heaviness, a familiar companion to the realm of play. Oh my yes, I SO get that! Hoping for you that there will be many moments of play over the holiday season with all your littles to bigs, and that you will feel loved and held, even in the moments of accompanying heaviness. ❤️
Janet, I love hearing about your traditions and the traditions you have chosen for yourself and your family, especially as I embark on my first Christmas where I get to make my own Christmas traditions. What I read in your words is how much value you place on presence and on the movement towards kindness to yourself even when it’s hard, and I’m confident that those are being passed to your kids just as much as the more tangible traditions.
I’m so happy for you in the making of your own traditions! I hope to hear about them soon. Thank you for your kind words as always – they always go deep in my heart.
I love your traditions and the gift you have of passing them on. Hold the richness of all this season offers…and…take that special time for you💗MJ
Thanks Mary Jane! It took some extra work to “hold” some of those traditions with this year being so different, but it is important to me, and was good for our family as well. I am so grateful.
I always enjoy hearing your traditions and the thought and purpose with which you live. Such a beautiful post about remaining present and human. Thank you.
Thanks, Bethany. Present and human…why is that so hard? I hope your time with your family over the holidays was full of life.
Be here, don’t miss it. Yes and yes. I understand the presence of so many feelings and the threat of missing the moments that matter. I love the idea of remembering that my name is being called….and that I want to say, “Here!” Hoping there are many such moments of goodness for us both this season my friend. ❤
I know…I don’t want to miss that either! I’ve loved the conversations we’ve had about how to hold onto hope for that goodness in the midst of all that is going on in our own lives and our family’s. So grateful for your presence in my life.
I so enjoyed every bit of this post. It was completely lovely. Looking forward to hearing the stories this Christmas held too.
Thank you Katy! I think we’ll need another time soon to swap stories over a glass of wine.