Did you scope out your parents’ favorite hiding place for Christmas presents when you were a kid? Did you scheme to find your way into that secret closet or corner where you knew they kept the unwrapped gifts? Or were you the obedient child who waited for Christmas morning to discover the treasures hiding beneath the colorfully decorated packages?
I was always the latter. I sometimes thought I would burst as the hours ticked by too slowly until time to open presents on Christmas Day. Still, I never felt the urge to go snooping ahead of time.
On a chilly mid-December day when I was in junior high, I sprinted across our yard after school and through the front door. The tantalizing smell of fresh baked cookies sweetened the air. Bing Crosby’s White Christmas played softly through the radio speakers.
I could see Mom sitting at the kitchen table, the telephone cradled against her chin as she peeled potatoes. I knew better than to disturb her deep conversation with the caller, so I plopped down on the couch in the living room.
An open box of typewriter paper caught my attention, evidence Mom had busied herself throughout the day with one of her frequent pastimes, writing letters. Mom’s correspondence with family and friends entertained the recipients with the humorous stories she told.
She had a habit of proofreading her letters about halfway down the page. If she discovered errors, she would rip the paper out of the machine and place it in the typewriter paper box top. This day, she had discarded four or five letters in progress.
I casually glanced at the pages, seeking out a paragraph or two where her clever words described some antic of mine or my sister’s. Suddenly, a line jumped out at me as though typed in bold capital letters. “We got the kids a set of bunkbeds for Christmas.”
I tore my eyes away from the page and rushed into my bedroom. I held my churning stomach and threw myself across the bed. Tears dampened my pillow. I had ruined Mom and Dad’s big surprise gift to us, and there was no way I could unsee what I’d read.
A cloud hung over me the next few days as we prepared for Christmas with shopping, wrapping, baking, decorating the tree, and listening to Christmas music. I carried the burden of someone who had committed a crime. I couldn’t look either of my parents in the eye. Mom and Dad would be deeply disappointed if they knew I had found out about this special Christmas present.
Christmas morning, I was thrilled to see the new furniture. I hid my guilt behind a squeal of joyful surprise when my parents opened the bedroom door to reveal the gift.
I still remember what my curiosity cost me that Christmas.
Over the years, I’ve developed a more mature view of Christmas and Christmas presents. The real meaning of this sacred holiday exemplifies the greatest gift of all, Our Savior Jesus, sent into the world from our Heavenly Father. Knowing the gift has already been given doesn’t dampen our annual celebration or diminish the Spirit of the Season.
The joy in receiving gifts lies not in the element of surprise, but in the love with which the gift is given, love reflected in God’s gift of a Savior to us that first Christmas morn.
Memories can bring happiness or heartache, depending on how and why we recall an event. In my Christmas novella, Cathy’s Christmas Confession, widower David Martin’s memories of his deceased wife bind him to the past, blocking him from envisioning a future. He sinks into an abyss of anger against God that hurls him deeper into despair. Cathy Fischer, a widow and acquaintance from his church family, reaches out to David with compassion and understanding.
When David joins Cathy’s plan to bring Christmas joy to others, he finds hope rekindled in his own heart
Purchase Cathy’s Christmas Confession at these links in Kindle or paperback format at this link:
also available on Kindle Unlimited
Thank you for sharing Patti! I really enjoyed the family story. I can remember as a child being afraid to look my parents in the eyes because I'd done something they'd told me not to. And thank you for reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas:)
Hi eMarie! Thank you so much for hosting me on your blog today. It is a joy to be here. May you, your family, and your readers always find Christmas joy!