It's the thought that counts...or at least it was

I remember the exact moment when I realized I wasn't going to participate in the rampant greed that defines the holiday season as we know it today.

I grew up a child of the 50s and 60s, when the holidays were more about gathering with friends and family to reflect upon the year past and look forward with hope to the one ahead. There was magic in the air, and while the anticipation of Santa's return was part of it, it was more than that. You could literally feel the presence of God, which for me, means love.

I'm not a religious person. I don't subscribe to any one faith, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in something. The power of love, of the soul. I believe in morality, in humanity as it pertains to its root--humane. The holiday season was once a celebration of that. Harkening back to its pagan origins, the Solstice was a time of renewal, of the rebirth of the sun as the seasons changed and the days began to lengthen again, leaving the darkness behind.

It was in the early 90s when I finally looked around me and realized I was done with it all. My kids were still young, though past the belief in Santa. I had lost my job that year and we were struggling. I was working odd jobs, whatever I could pick up--cleaning houses, delivering phone books, painting houses. It wasn't much, but it put food on the table and kept a roof over our heads. Some nights I skipped dinner so the kids could eat. They knew things were tough, but they didn't know the real story. They didn't need to. They were kids, and as my father always taught us, kids should remain innocent as long as possible, because they have their whole lives to be adults.

As I said, we didn't have much, and I knew Christmas wasn't going to be the bountiful feast of years past, but while eating dinner one night, the kids brought up an idea. Instead of buying them toys, why didn't we donate whatever we could to a needy family. Considering we were pretty needy ourselves at the time, I felt a lump in my throat that I had raised these kids to think that way.

So that's what we did. I scraped together $150.00 and we signed up to adopt a family. They had two small children--a girl and a boy--and we went shopping and bought a couple of inexpensive toys for each, then a turkey and and all the fixings for a family dinner. On the morning of Christmas Eve, the kids and I drove over to our adopted family's house to deliver our gifts.

At the time we were living in an 80-year-old bungalow with leaky windows, bad plumbing, and no air conditioning or heat. The house I pulled up to was a mansion compared to that. It was in a nice neighborhood, nearly new construction, and a fairly new car sat in the driveway. The woman who answered the door was dressed better than me on my best day. I looked around the room and nearly threw up. These people had more than we had ever had, and yet they had signed up to be an adopted family?

The boys and I presented the woman with our packages. To their credit, they said nothing about our surroundings. The woman immediately unwrapped the toys and looked up at me with a frown.

"This is all you bought them?"

That's when my youngest spoke up. "It was all we could afford. My mom doesn't have a job."

The woman just rolled her eyes and dismissed us. No thank you, no appreciation whatsoever for the generosity of strangers.

When we got back to the car, I sat there for a minute fighting back the tears. I had sacrificed what little I had for my own family to give to someone who not only didn't need it, but didn't even have the courtesy to appreciate the effort. That's when my son patted me on the arm and smiled at me.

"Don't worry, Mom. It's the thought that counts."

Yes, it was, for us at least. But that was the last Christmas I celebrated. I had been watching the erosion of the holiday spirit for years, but that's when it really hit home and I made the decision that I would no longer participate in the charade of "giving" that now characterizes this time of year.

Instead of peace and love, all we have is stress and  greed. Shop, shop, shop. Go in debt to buy the perfect gift for everyone, but make sure they can return it when it isn't perfect and no one appreciates it anyway. Nope. No more. My boys and I decided we would have our own holidays. Birthdays became the holidays in our house. If I couldn't afford gifts, I made sure that day was special in some other way. The boys understood because, just like me, they had seen behind the curtain that day.

I wish you all peace and love for the coming year and hope that sometime during this hectic season, you can find time to stop and reflect upon the true meaning of Christmas--not as it pertains to religion, but to the spirit of all humanity.

Peace.