My mother is a meticulous gift wrapper. Christmas boxes under the tree were always impeccably done: bows, ribbons and name tags, all taped just so. They were decorations of their own.
Mom would have her holiday shopping done so far in advance that it felt like the wrapped gifts were under the tree forever. So very tempting to a young kid! I always wanted to try my hand at peeking at the well-wrapped gifts, but if I did, I knew I’d leave my mark behind and Mom would know.
That all changed when I was around 11 or 12. I had my eye on a gift that I was pretty sure was the ice skates I really, really, really wanted. I found an opportune time when Mom was gone from the house and I dug in.
Carefully, so carefully, I pulled back the Scotch Magic tape, taking pains to not tear the paper. My heart was racing! One wrong pull and the paper would rip and I’d be found out. But this tape was made just for me, and on this occasion I successfully pulled it back far enough to see enough of the box to confirm my suspicion: Mom and Dad got me skates – oh joy!
Then, following the folded lines just so, I retaped the paper and put the box back in the same exact spot so my mom wouldn’t know I’d peeked.
Yet, while I was so excited to know I was getting what I wanted, I also felt a tinge of guilt and a tad bit let down. Thanks to my clandestine endeavors, I knew what was in the box, and somehow that changed how I felt about the gift and lessened my excitement.
Some days later I heard my mom holler up the stairs …
“Lisa! Did you open this gift? It looks like someone got into it!”
“No, Mom, no! I would never.”
But she knew. And I knew she knew, and I bet she knew that I knew she knew. It’s funny now to think about.
Is it just me or when everything is open, do you find yourself looking for one more “hit?”
I do.
“Hey kids, isn’t there one more gift under the tree? There, under the wrapping paper, over by the …”
I definitely see the letdown, especially as my kids get older. Surrounded by so many things, they often go to their rooms and start texting friends. I’ve even seen gifts stay in their packaging for days. We are all surrounded by so many things that I suppose we can’t blame them.
My family celebrates Christmas, but I can assume for those who celebrate Hannukah and Kwanza that – while the holidays remind us of life-altering events our faith calls us to remember – oftentimes they end up focused on stuff. Plain ol’ stuff.
So I raise the question: Isn’t there more to the holidays than a human construct of a monthlong party requiring gift giving, drinking, eating and planning what the first “diet day” will be?
I’m clearly not the first person to ponder over that, and I’m hardly the most elegant at putting words to the thought. But if we can’t find deeper meaning to the day we celebrate then it’s no wonder we hear so much news after the holidays about depression and loneliness.
We – the collective “we,” including me – set ourselves up for a fall with the frantic planning, endless shopping, double-booking and overeating. I would argue it’s just not normal, and we all know it’s not healthy. So why do we do it?
Perhaps it’s because the marketing messages of going “all out” are too tempting? Or perhaps we aren’t clear on our objectives.
I love Christmas, but for the good of us all, can we agree we need a moment of reflection before we hit the stores? We owe it to ourselves, our partners and, most importantly, our kids, who are learning behaviors about the holidays from us. No pressure there!
I recall a moment as a young girl when my dad had not yet returned from a work trip, and the house was aglow for the holidays. On this night, me, my mom and my sister sat around the tree to admire our decorating skills. The plastic candle lights I’d placed in all the windows of the house were lit and it was dark outside, making their flicker almost magical.
The moment felt wholly unique.
It was still and sweet and calm. Mom started singing “Silent Night” and Jan and I followed along. It was so beautiful – just the three of us singing. I felt, happy, content and sad all at the same time as I took in the sparkle, the tinsel and the gifts under the tree. Even as a child, I seriously pondered the words we sang. A newborn baby bringing in hope despite what His future would hold. Sheep, cows and a miraculous star so bright no one could miss it. Something important had happened and it was the lowly and unassuming that knew it first.
I think we probably only knew the first two verses by heart, and maybe part of the third. I imagine us quietly giggling and cuddling when we got to the third stanza and couldn’t quite muster out a grand finale.
What was under the tree for me? I don’t remember, but that moment was a gift I will never forget.
When wearing her work hat, Lisa Mozloom is a media and presentation training coach and PR practitioner at The M Network, but at home she is a woman passionate about raising three teens, loving her husband, and finding ways to extend hospitality and hope to those around her.