The Best Christmas Gift

Funny thing about growing up; you never know what one singular event from your childhood will be so profound as to influence and shape the rest of your life. Parents don’t know either. Of course, they hope when that event happens, it will be a positive not negative influence. Such an event happened to Yours Truly that seventh and last year we spent living on that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo Why a negative story just before Christmas? Keep reading, Dear Reader, and you will discover how a negative event turned into one of the most memorable takeaways from our childhood.  

As the early morning light shined through the part in the curtains, I woke, jumped on Twin Brother Mark still lying asleep in the bed next to mine, and then ran downstairs to see what “Santa” had brought us. By this time, being all of twelve, we already knew the real identity of Santa. Still, I will admit as I gazed at all the presents stuffed under the tree, I was amazed Santa was able to do so much wrapping in just one night. I was quickly joined by my other brothers and The Sister. Mom and Dad came in moments later, sat down on the carpet, and started to hand out our many presents.

We waited patiently until all gifts were handed out, then we started to rip open the many packages. As we opened one gift after another, the same befuddled expression was on each of our faces. Instead of piles of toys, we each had just one thing we’d asked for. The rest of the “gifts” in front of us were piles of clothes, socks, and yes, underwear! I was the one who said what was on all our minds. I gave a halfhearted chuckle and said, “No, really. Where are all the gifts?”  

Mom used to say, “Out of every bad thing that happens, some good comes out of it. You just have to be able to see and sometimes wait for it.” That morning, surrounded by packages of underwear, t-shirts, socks, and only one real present for each of us, I couldn’t see how getting those odd gifts on Christmas was anything but a bad thing. 

Except for a brief look exchanged between them, my parents didn’t show any reaction to my throwaway comment and never mentioned it. It took years out in the world as a grownup to finally understand what my parents were going through at that time. They were struggling just to keep a roof over our head and food on the table – none of us kids knew that. We were shielded from all their real-life stresses – as children should be. On that Christmas morning, they didn’t give us a bunch of toys that we would play with for a couple of months and then forget about. Instead, they gave us the things we needed. And they gave us something more important: a home filled with love.  

I also realized something else that I didn’t know at twelve: how deeply hurtful my comment must have been to them. That one singular experience made me appreciate everything I’ve been given in life, no matter how big or small. It taught me how one thoughtless comment, even unintentional, can harm others in ways you can never imagine.  

As far back as I can remember my parents told us, “If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.” Sadly, sitting on the living room floor surrounded by all those gifts that weren’t toys, I’d forgotten that pearl of wisdom. All I could see was what we didn’t have, not what we did. But our parents remembered, and it was proven by their lack of response to my comment. That, or they were too hurt to say anything. Either way, the event was more than just a thoughtless comment spoken.

As an adult, I try to be a positive influence – a bright bulb on the Christmas tree instead of the dimly lit one when I was twelve. It was a seminal event that changed my life: when our parents gave us not a bunch of toys, but what we really needed – their love. 

It was a lesson I’ve never forgotten from that one Christmas morning a long, long time ago back on that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo.