No matter that it was the best I could do—the gift was cheap and I was ashamed. Still, years later, like the ghost of Christmas past, I hear that dollar store find whispering my name.
You see, as the post-Christmas “am I coming or going?” week closes and the winds of January enter, I feel the unspoken need to put dreams to paper for the year ahead.
The pressure to make things happen sits heavy.
But I’ve been here before. I’ve learned a thing or two about what must precede the resolutions, the plans, and the dream.
Just as Christmas comes before the New Year, my giving must precede my goals.
And that cheap gift? Well, that’s where the lesson started…
You see, as the post-Christmas “am I coming or going?” week closes and the winds of January enter, I feel the unspoken need to put dreams to paper for the year ahead.
The pressure to make things happen sits heavy.
But I’ve been here before. I’ve learned a thing or two about what must precede the resolutions, the plans, and the dream.
Just as Christmas comes before the New Year, my giving must precede my goals.
And that cheap gift? Well, that’s where the lesson started…
“I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God,
that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice…”
Romans 12:1
I squeezed into the one last bit of space available on the crowded mall bench and sat there exhausted and overwhelmed. With the excitement, congestion, and anticipation of the Christmas season swirling around me, I pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of my purse.
Twelve names. Sixty dollars.
My challenge? To buy decent gifts for the twelve on this list. These names weren’t just any names; these were the special ones. This year, they were the only people that we could afford to buy gifts for, and saying we could afford that was stretching the truth.
Though I tried to stop them, tears came into my eyes and threatened to spill down my cheeks.
Tight finances weren’t the only contribution to my exhausted, overwhelmed spirit. I was a new mother with a two-week-old baby at home.
And that explains a lot.
I looked forward to going home to family in Michigan and showing off my beautiful, new baby, but that joy was presently dimmed due to our meager funds.
That afternoon, my husband had volunteered to stay home with our baby so that I could do the Christmas shopping.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
With the list and money tucked in my purse, I headed to the mall, and now, there I sat. Closing my eyes, I did the only thing I knew to do. I bowed my head and whispered a prayer. Then, I got up and began my search.
One by one, the bargains came, and I ticked the names off, counting my pennies carefully. Hope was returning when I realized that I was down to the last name. My five siblings and our spouses had exchanged names, and I had drawn the name of my brother Scott.
I had two dollars left.
With the best of intentions, I set out with those two dollars in hand. Knowing that my brother was taking some drafting courses at a local college, I thought that maybe he could use an
X-Acto knife. You know—those little yellow or bright orange and black plastic knives with retractable, breakable blades?
After several years of military service, he and his young family were starting over, and I hoped my small gift would encourage him in his new pursuit.
A few days later, we packed our suitcases and crossed the Canadian-American border for the holidays. My mother graciously allowed me to raid her stash of Christmas paper, and I carefully wrapped each present—trying my best to make every one as beautiful as possible. Which, looking back, may not have helped to assuage the let-down from the actual gift.
Admittedly, it was a bit of a challenge to wrap that little X-Acto knife attractively, but somehow with a mini-bag and some tissue paper, I managed. With resignation, I placed it and the other gifts under my parents’ tree.
That Christmas Eve, all nineteen of us met together to open the mountain of presents under the tree. We had no
idea that it would be one of the last times we would all be together with my father for a Christmas celebration. Had I known, I may not have been so concerned about that little gift under the tree. But that night, my sight was clouded.
As each gift was passed to its recipient, the knot in my stomach grew. No matter how nice that bag looked, I knew what was inside of it. All around me, as sweaters, books, and lamps were opened, I heard delighted responses.
Huddled around my feet were several gifts, but all I could think about was the stupid, little bag that my brother was about to open. I sat mortified. What had I possibly been thinking?
Finally, I watched with dread as he reached for the bag and pulled out the paper.
But my brother didn’t look at my pathetic gift as anything less than amazing. He took that plastic X-Acto knife and held it in his hands as if it were gold-plated. Then, looking at me with absolute sincerity, he said, “Thanks, Melissa, I use these all the time.”
Our eyes locked, and I knew he knew. But he understood. I blinked away tears and sighed with relief. I, who had given all I could, received the greater gift.
It was then, and only then, that I could start to enjoy the gifts with my name on them.
Since that day, whenever asked to name the best Christmas gift I ever received, I do not hesitate. I tell about the Christmas when my brother saw my heart instead of my cheap gift.
One day, a few years later, it occurred to me how very similar my Christian life was to that Christmas scene. You see, I have a terrible habit—well, let’s call it what it is—I have a terrible sin of looking at the gifts others are presenting to the Lord and shrinking back in insecurity. Being absorbed in my pride and false shame, I am unable to enjoy any of the beautiful gifts that surround me.
When Paul wrote in Romans 12 that we are “to present our bodies a living sacrifice…” the verb for present doesn’t mean to surrender; it means to give, as in giving a gift to someone you love. And our bodies is not just referring to our physical shell. It includes every part of who we are—our personality, our abilities, our dreams, and each unique quality that He, our Creator, has given us.
“My gift is too small,” my heart cries. “It will never be enough.”
Well, yes and no. Yes—because in myself, I can do nothing. But, no—because in giving myself back to my Creator, He knows best how to use what I am. Kind of like how my brother actually did know how to use that X-Acto knife, even if I didn’t.
I look at the new year and it’s blank pages before me. I look at myself, and I know that I am not enough.
But He is.
So, once again, by faith, I symbolically present the small gift of my life to my Creator.
Gently unwrapping it and holding me as one would hold fine china, He whispers, “Thank you, Melissa. I use lives all the time.”
