Christmas – Page 6 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

Christmas Magic

Published on December 23, 2016December 19, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

It is two days before Christmas and my head is filled with many random thoughts. I was thinking about the live trees that everyone used to have back when I was a child. They were so much fun but invariably half of my family would be ill by Christmas Eve. Little did we realize that we were actually allergic to the lovely natural aroma of pine or fir that filled the air. Once the artificial varieties became available there was no turning back for us. We finally found out what it was like to feel good for the holidays.

In an effort to reproduce the feeling of my childhood days I purchased a scented wax chunk in Colorado when I visited there in the fall. I thought it might be fun to have the illusion of having a real tree with the essence of pine wafting through the air. I decided to burn it this past weekend and within about thirty minutes my head was aching and my throat had begun to close. My nose was running and my eyes were watering. I suppose that I’m just not going to create a forest-like atmosphere in my home ever again. It was sad to realize that my body won’t tolerate that wonderful smell of a Christmas forest.

During the brief moments when my house felt more like my younger days I began to reminisce. I suspect that there is always that one special Christmas gift that remains magical even sixty years later. For me it was finding a bicycle in front of the Christmas tree when I was seven years old. Santa got everything right about that bike from the basket mounted on the handlebars to the color. It was love at first sight and I could hardly wait to change out of my pajamas and get outside to give it a test drive. I felt very grown up because it didn’t come with training wheels. Santa assumed that I would be able to learn how to balance and pedal without any problems. It made me happy that he had so much confidence in me.

My father was my official coach. He held the bicycle up while I climbed on and ran along beside me until I had picked up enough speed to stay upright. The first few times I crashed almost immediately and even skinned my knee. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be able to master the art of riding but I was too embarrassed to admit defeat so I kept climbing right back onto the seat and trying again and again. Daddy encouraged me and gave me tips about how to improve. Just when I thought that I was never going to overcome my cycling inadequacies my father let go and I kept going. I even turned around and headed back to him. I suspect that I had one of the biggest grins of my lifetime. I can’t remember another time that I felt so proud of my accomplishments.

That bike would become my constant companion. It took me on adventures and saved me from boredom. I eventually learned how to perform tricks like standing on the seat while holding one leg in the air or letting go of the handlebars while still moving forward. I’m not sure what ultimately became of it. I suppose that I simply outgrew it one day and my mother no doubt sent it to wherever old bikes go.

There really is nothing quite like those childhood days when Santa comes in the middle of the night while children sleep. It is so breathtaking to find the wondrous toys waiting in the morning. I can still see the roller skates and the dolls in the glow of the multi-colored lights. I envision the oranges and nuts that were invariably hiding inside my stocking. There is a part of my brain that will stay forever young with those magical images of Christmases past.

Santa still visits our house. My grandchildren come to stay with me from San Antonio and somehow Old St. Nick manages to find them. They are growing older so he may soon quit coming just as he does with all of us once we are no longer children but we never forget how wonderful he made us feel and we vicariously enjoy his magic in the eyes of the young. It will be sad when my grandchildren too have outgrown him.

I’ve worked hard for the past several weeks preparing a feast for my extended family that I will serve on Christmas Day. I am expecting around thirty two adults and kids to join us this year. It is a riotous time filled with laughter and lots of love. There will be children running up and down the hallways and adults hugging and catching up on all that has happened since last we saw one another. We’ll devour mountains of food and by the end of the evening the house will resemble the Griswold’s home in Christmas Vacation after a squirrel runs amuck.

I always sit in the light of the tree on Christmas night wondering how the celebrations went by so quickly. I’ll think of how fortunate I have been throughout my lifetime. I’ll remember all of the people and the traditions that I have enjoyed over the years and I know I will feel quite content. Somehow the spirit of Christmas finds its way into my heart over and over again regardless of what may have happened in the months that came before.

Merry Christmas to everyone. May this holiday find you feeling that magic of the season and sharing love with those who mean the most to you. I hope that Santa is as good to you as he always seems to be to me.

Christmas Gumbo

Published on December 21, 2016December 15, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

(Note: This blog is a repeat from the past that is back by popular demand. This time it even includes the recipe that I use to make gumbo for my Christmas Day dinner. Enjoy!)

I still haven’t quite learned how to take it easy at Christmastime. I don’t get stressed out like I used to as much as tuckered out. I cling to so many traditions that I am not yet ready to eliminate. So far I am hanging in there but I secretly worry that the day will come when I just can’t do all of the things that I insist on accomplishing. My right knee keeps screaming at me to take it easy but I refuse to give in even though my doctor tells me to listen to my body. Besides, I’ve found a new weapon this year. I’ve taught Mike how to cook.

He is fascinated with the culinary arts anyway. I can visit Williams Sonoma with him anytime that I wish. He walks up and down the same aisles over and over again and never appears to tire of looking for new gadgets, cutlery, and cookware. If I put such items from the store on my wish list I’m almost certain to receive them. I have one of the best stocked kitchens in the city. I have literally reached a point where there is very little that is left to purchase and Mike is bursting with pride over the quality of my implements. On major occasions I have all the equipment that I need to prepare a feast for forty people. The only thing that has been lacking of late is the old energy that I used to possess.

I’ve experimented a great deal with the Christmas dinner that I prepare for my ever growing extended family and never really felt satisfied until last year. My brother roasts the best turkey ever on Thanksgiving so my attempts to go in that route always felt lackluster. I’ve tried roasts and hams and have concocted an assortment of sides. A few years back I think that I actually found the perfect combination but I had to spend days on end cooking and by the time my guests arrived I was too pooped to even care. So last year I made a major decision. I was going to create a new and crazy tradition unlike anything that I had ever before done.

I make a very good gumbo. I’ve slowly but surely perfected the technique and it’s all done from scratch. I have a great recipe that I have tweaked a bit here and there and I generally have incredible results. The only trouble is that I have to use certain pots or the brew doesn’t quite taste right. That means that I can’t double the recipe and I am actually a bit wary of doing that anyway lest it change the chemistry of my ingredients. All of that means that I must meticulously make the gumbo one batch at a time, something I did last season that nearly put me in bed on Christmas Day. I spent well over sixteen hours straight cooking my famous seafood and chicken stews on December 23, and by the end of my marathon I was limping to bed.

For all of this year I have tried to determine how to streamline my process and without warning it came to me that if I were to enlist Mike as my chef in training I would be able to concoct two batches of gumbo at a time and still maintain the integrity of the process. I was absolutely right in guessing that he would thoroughly enjoy the task. What I had dreaded turned into a most enjoyable day for the two of us.

Mike likes to create an atmosphere. He always has. When we were dating he devised a way to have a steady stream of music in his car by carrying a tape player in the backseat. He deftly changed from one prerecorded hour of music to another by reaching behind his seat. Eventually he caught up with modernity by installing an eight track tape player on the dashboard thus allowing him to hold my hand while he drove. I always thought that he was quite clever in finding ways to make ordinary evenings more special. So it didn’t surprise me at all when he found some Christmas in New Orleans music to accompany our cooking session yesterday.

We boiled two pots of shrimp shells and two of blue crabs while we sliced and diced fresh okra, onions, green pepper, celery and garlic. He is so much better with a knife than I am. I think it frustrated him to watch me fumbling with the blades and wearing a protective mesh glove to make sure that I didn’t cut my fingers. He used our chef’s knife like a pro and had his half of the chopping done in half of the time it took me. I think that he secretly enjoyed showing off his skills.

Once we had a steaming seafood broth we gently browned the okra until the ropiness was gone. It was finally time to make the roux. I gently instructed Mike in the process and was soon enough reminded that he is a quick learner. I tend to worry too much about burning the concoction and all too often I pull the plug before the mixture is dark enough. Mike, on the other hand, decided to risk it all by letting his roux turn an ever deeper brown color. The result was perfection. I have to admit that I was quite impressed.

We put in the vegetables and cooked them until they were soft and sticking to the bottom of our pans. We added the tomatoes and the spices to create an even more tantalizing base. Finally we added the broth from the crabs and shrimp and let our heavenly gumbos simmer for an hour. I checked on the progress every fifteen minutes and found that Mike had created a perfect dish on his very first try. All that was left was to add the crabs and the shrimp that we had set aside earlier. After a little more than three hours we had two steaming hot pots of gumbo fit for a king. Even better, we had enjoyed a day of laughter and silly conversation with some great Christmas jazz playing in the background. Somehow it felt perfect.

Mike and I will enjoy another cooking session this afternoon. I have some huge containers to hold the rich stew and I will freeze our creations until the big day. Best of all I will have some delicious fare to offer my guests without putting myself into an early grave. I’ve found the secret at last!

As Mike and I age I think that I will have pre-Christmas gumbo making parties with some of my children and grandchildren. They will learn how to make my most famous dish and I will get the help that I need. Besides we need to keep the recipe in the family. The ingredients are easy enough to find in a book but as with all cooking I tweak the process a bit here and there based on my experiences with perfecting the taste. I add a few little things that seem to enhance the flavors even more.

I’m excited that I now have a gumbo making intern. I can already tell that Mike is ready to try new cooking adventures. I’ve tapped into a side of him that I didn’t know was there. Maybe he will ultimately push me aside and take over the kitchen. I don’t know why it never occurred to me before to invite him into my domain. I suppose that I should have picked up on all of the hints that he was leaving me whenever we made those visits to cookware stores. He was always as intrigued by the implements there as he is when we go to Harbor Freight. I think that he has been longing to receive an invitation into the culinary world but my control freak personality had frightened him away. It’s taken me far too long to let things go but I am slowly but surely altering my personality to be more easy going.

We had a ton of fun working together. The hours passed so quickly and the job felt more like entertainment than toil. We ended our cooking marathon with a viewing of A Christmas Carol and felt a sense of wonder at our grand accomplishment. It feels good to finally have this thing called Christmas figured out. My next phase is going to be to farm out the cleanup duties. That may be a harder sell but I’m ready. I’ve put my white glove of perfection away and learned how to enjoy the moment.

For those of you who have been asking, here is the recipe for the Seafood Gumbo with a nod to The Gumbo Shop in New Orleans for the basic ideas. I’ll send out the Chicken and Sausage recipe tomorrow.

2 lbs of shrimp (I buy the frozen package from HEB that is always as good as fresh shrimp and easier to keep on hand.)

2 or 3 small blue crabs (HEB has a package of frozen crabs that work well)

3 quarts water

2 Tbls. cooking oil

1 quart of okra (Again HEB comes to the rescue with frozen and cut okra)

2/3 cup cooking oil

1 medium onion

1 green bell pepper

1 stem of celery

2 cloves of garlic

16 ounces of diced tomatoes

2 bay leaves

2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. black pepper

1/2 tsp. white pepper

1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

small container of cooked crab meat

Peel and devein the the shrimp and set aside the raw shrimp in a bowl in the refrigerator. (If you purchase the frozen variety from HEB it will already be deveined.) Place the shrimp shells and heads in a stock pot with 2 quarts of water. (I add a 2 or 3 tablespoons of Louisiana powdered crab and shrimp boil just to give the broth an extra kick.) Bring the water to a boil and then simmer for 30 to 45 minutes. Once the broth is done drain the mixture into a bowl using a colander. Save the broth and discard the shells. Set aside for later use. At the same time as you are boiling the shrimp shells and heads place the crabs in a pot with one quart of water. (I add a tablespoon of crab and shrimp boil to this as well.) Bring to a boil and then simmer for 20 to 30 minutes. Strain being sure to save both the stock and the crabs. Set the cooked crabs aside along with the broth.

While the two broths are cooking chop all of the vegetables and line up the remaining ingredients so that you will be able to grab them quickly during the cooking process.

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy skillet and saute the okra on medium heat until the ropiness is gone. This may take 10 to 15 minutes. Stir frequently to keep the okra from burning.

Now it’s time to make the roux. Put 2/3 cup of oil in a heavy pot and let it heat up just a bit then add the 1/2 cup of flour. Stir the mixture of oil and flour constantly. As the process continues bubbles will begin to form and the mixture will smell like popcorn. Keep stirring until a nice dark brown color is achieved. Be careful not to burn the roux.

Once you have a color that you like add the onions, green pepper, celery and garlic. Saute them in the mixture until they are tender. Scrape the bottom of the pan if the vegetables begin to stick.

When the vegetables are tender add the tomatoes and all of the spices. Cook this mixture for about 10 minutes continuing to stir and scrape the bottom of the pan. Add the sauteed okra and cook for 10 more minutes.

Now add all of the crab stock and one quart of the shrimp stock to the pot. (You should have about two quarts of liquid in the pot.) Bring the mixture to a boil while stirring constantly. Reduce the heat and simmer in a covered pot for one hour, checking the mixture frequently and stirring. You can add more spices during the cooking process according to your taste. After an hour add the crabs and let them cook for 10 minutes then put in the shrimp and let them cook for 5 minutes. I also add some crab meat from the small container to give the gumbo more texture and flavor.

Feel free to adjust the spices. My crew likes their gumbo hot so I don’t hold back but I sample the mixture throughout the cooking process until it seems just right.

The gumbo always tastes better if you allow it to sit in the pot in the refrigerator for a day before serving. I often freeze the gumbo to use later. I thaw it in the refrigerator the day before I intend to use it. It heats up nicely. Just be sure not to overcook the shrimp. I take out the crab bodies and legs because my grandchildren don’t like having to work around them but some people like to keep them in the gumbo for effect. You can remove the meat from the crab shells and put it in the pot if you wish.

Serve the gumbo over rice with a green salad and either French or garlic bread.

Gleeful Sounds

Published on December 16, 2016December 13, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

music-notes-clip-art-png-139835101453 My mother had so many natural talents, among them was an incredible ear for music. She had no idea what the notes on a sheet meant but she was able to clearly hear the nuances of melodies and harmonies. When she taught a group of fifth graders she became well known for the beautiful sounds of singing that wafted from her classroom. Other teachers would ask her to provide them with the music for her creations but she had no idea how to do so. She was untrained in the intricacies of composing but she had the ability to note even the tiniest change in the sounds that comprised the lovely arrangements of the musicians that she admired. Thus her choral direction lead her students to perform as beautifully as the Vienna Boys Choir.

Mama had a lovely alto voice and she knew the words to hundreds of songs. She and my father shared a love of music but he tended to favor only classical pieces whereas she was up to speed with all of the latest pop tunes as well. She rocked to the sounds of The Rolling Stones with as much enthusiasm as to the symphonies of Beethoven. She almost seemed to feel the music in some extraordinary way that traveled all the way through her body down to her feet. In addition to having a sixth sense about how to put voices together in perfect harmony she was an exceptional dancer who seemed to literally float above the floor when she performed her routines. When people complimented her grace and style and wondered where she had learned such skills she admitted that she was self trained. She carefully watched the best dancers of her era and imitated their moves.

My brothers and I liked to entertain ourselves and our neighborhood friends by putting on shows in the summertime. Our mother was our choreographer, teaching us how to tap dance in unison with our singing. As a vocal coach she designed intricate harmonies for us so that our performances seemed almost professional. While we loved the limelight when the audience of friends whooped and hollered in appreciation for our efforts what was most fun were the rehearsals with our mom. We were in awe of her ability to create such lovely renditions of the songs that we so loved. She made our little efforts seem so important and all of us recall those times with her with such joy.

Eventually we grew up and began families of our own. All of us had a definite love of music that felt as natural as the traits caused by our DNA. One brother tended toward my father’s way of thinking and preferred mostly classical pieces but he has a particular passion for popular female singers as well. The other brother went all the way with country songs, even developing a wonderful talent for two stepping in time with the tunes. My own interests in music run the gamut and I find myself discovering and enjoying new genres and artists even to this day.

When my children were young I encouraged them to appreciate music and dance as much as my mother did but I also went out of my way to provide them with formal lessons to help them along. I didn’t seem to have the talents that my mother did so I was of little use in providing them with guidance at home with one exception. Each Christmas I showed them how to sing White Christmas in four part harmony with me and my husband Mike. It worked out well because each of us had a different singing range. Mike took the baritone part, our eldest daughter was the alto, I did a low soprano and the youngest had a knack for hitting the high notes. We would sing our way to all of the Christmas Eve and Christmas day events with Bing Crosby crooning in the background. It became a tradition and for a time we were certain that if a talent scout were to hear our enchanting sounds we would immediately become super stars. Mostly though it was a fun time that bonded us with laughter and glee. It became as much a part of our holiday routine as finding oranges and nuts in our stockings. Somehow our rendition was especially spectacular in those years when the weather was rather frightful. It had the power to warm our hearts.

My grandchildren have all learned to play instruments and read music. They are quite good and appear to have a bit of the innate talent that my mother displayed. Jack has mastered the piano, guitar and French horn in addition to singing in musicals. Ian plays the cello like an angel. Eli took up the oboe like his mother did when she was his age and emits a sweet and haunting tone. Andrew did quite well with tenor saxophone but set it aside to study engineering. Abigail has an angelic voice but most enjoys creating lovely sounds with the clarinet. Ben plays the tuba with gusto and William makes the violin sing. They all have enjoyed the advantage of having well trained teachers to develop their talents and take them to ever more complex levels for learning the intricacies of music.

There is still something quite charming about the simple ditties that my brothers and I sang with the help of our mom. It was homespun fun of the kind that our ancestors probably enjoyed long ago when entertainment was beholden to imagination. After long days of work families were lucky to have anything more than the creativity that lived inside their heads to pass away the hours. The folk songs and handmade instruments that kept time with the tunes were all that they had and yet somehow in all cultures there were those who seemed to naturally understand how to use what they had to make music. Song and dance are part of our make up as human beings. It is something that we are drawn to do and enjoy.

These days my family choir has been reduced to just me and Mike. We still like to sing along with Bing and recall those times with our girls. It’s funny how we can’t remember all of the gifts that we have received for Christmas over the years but we do enjoy the fondest memories of our family choir. My brothers and I feel the same way about those show tunes and dances that we learned from our mother. They are bright spots in our minds that are more precious than possessions. There is something quite heartwarming about the simplicity of shared experiences that make us laugh and love together. Somehow they always seem to matter the most.

Lessons From The Gang

Published on December 15, 2016December 12, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

ourgang4_xlarge Back when I was a child most of the local television stations filled the programming hours in the afternoon with old black and white movies usually of the B variety. I never saw many A listers in those films but some of them were surprisingly good and memorable. I grew to have a particular affection for the short Our Gang flicks featuring an adorably talented group of children known as The Little Rascals. I didn’t realize back then that the beloved characters and stories that I watched so eagerly were filmed back in the 1920’s and 30’s. Those kids were long grown up by the time that I was laughing at their antics. They represented life during very hard times for the world and overriding all of their mischief there was always a moral for how to live life to the fullest. Their tales and the lessons they taught were universal enough to the human experience that I still think about how much they influenced me.

For some reason one of the episodes of that long ago time has stuck in my mind throughout my lifetime. It featured a family of children trying desperately to find an extraordinary gift for their mother. The little ones did odd jobs to earn money but even when they put all of their savings together they were still shy of having enough to purchase the kinds of presents that they so desperately wanted to give her. Their prayers appeared to be answered when they encountered a big sale at their local department store. Even though there were limited styles and sizes being offered at the low prices they managed to find an entire outfit of clothing for their mom, including a hat and shoes. It was with great fanfare and joy that they presented their gift of love to her.

The final scene shows the elated mother walking proudly down the street ignoring the gaping stares and whispers as she greets her friends and neighbors with her head held high. The dress from her little ones is quite obviously several sizes too large and hangs dangerously from her shoulders ready to drop to the ground if she does not walk very carefully. The shoes are little better and the hat is quite ridiculous. Still the pride with which she carries herself and the smile on her face insures her children that she is enchanted by the outfit that they worked so hard to buy her. Her selflessness and gratitude radiates and the smiles on the kids’ faces tell a story all its own.

In this season of giving we have at times become all too expectant in our wants and desires. Madison Avenue has somehow convinced us that this should be a time for receiving a new car or very expensive jewelry or electronics. The spaces underneath our Christmas trees are often crammed with gifts that may or may not satisfy us or those to whom we give our offerings. Most of us would be unlikely to demonstrate the kind of appreciation for a misfit gift that the mom in that old production showed to her children. Instead of simply enjoying the thoughts behind the many gifts that we receive we all too often obsess over whatever may have been lacking.

My mother loved visiting friends and family at Christmastime. It was quite fun going from one house to another and viewing the Christmas decorations and presents under the trees. One lady that Mama knew always received professionally wrapped gifts from her husband. They were so lovely that I would have had a difficult time tearing the paper and bows apart to find out what was inside. There always seemed to be mountains of boxes just for her. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if my widowed mom had someone to be so extravagant and thoughtful to her. She had to be satisfied with the small homemade things that my brothers and I gave her but her friend seemed to be feted like a queen. Ironically instead of being happy she complained every single year about how she would no doubt have to take everything back because her man had such poor taste. She insisted that it was a trial for her to even think of opening the presents because she was convinced that she would dislike them all. Somehow it never occurred to her how hard he was trying to please her. The attitude that she proclaimed seemed so wrong to me and I wanted to fuss at her but I was just a child and such lectures would have been wrong. Instead I told myself that I would never ever be so selfish.

A gift is far more than just the item inside a package. It is an outward sign that someone cares and has taken the time and the resources to show love. Regardless of how small, a present should never be taken for granted. Instead we should treasure the idea behind the offering. Someone in the busyness of the day has thought to make us happy. If we consider how powerful such an act is then we realize that it really is the thought that counts.

My father read so many fairytales to me but the one that seemed to resonate the most was about a fisherman who caught a magic flounder. He was granted a wish if he agreed to throw the hapless fish back into the water. Knowing that his wife was saddened by the deplorable condition of the shanty in which they lived he asked that he receive a nice little home. When he returned from work that evening his wife was beaming as she emerged from a small but tidy cabin. When he told her how the miracle had come to pass she frowned and upbraided him for making such a small request. Instead of being satisfied by her improved condition she longed for more.

As luck would have it the fisherman once again caught the magical creature who offered yet another wish. This time he was more specific in requesting a mansion with lots of money to match the splendor of the house. By this time his wife was on to the game and she met him at the door railing that he still had not requested enough. She fretted that he might have done so much better and became ever more unhappy even in the midst of splendor. Of course as the tale proceeds the fisherman catches the fish again and again asking for more and more audacious gifts with each new opportunity. In the end the flounder decides to give the man what he needs rather than what he thinks he should have. The hapless fisherman returns home to find his wife standing in front of the shanty that had originally been their home.

In this season we would all do well to keep our desires within reason and teach our children to do the same. Learning how to appreciate the blessings that we have is crucial to finding the happiness that we all seek. The baby for whom the holiday was named was not a king or a man of power but a humble soul. We would all do well to follow His example and to remember the moral of the story of mankind that is repeated over and over again. It is in giving that we truly receive. It is in loving that we find the greatest joy.

The Gift of Love

Published on December 12, 2016December 8, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Gift pile A Boys and Girls Club in Atlanta recently performed a small experiment and filmed the results. They brought in young children whose economic status was such that they might not receive any gifts for Christmas and asked them what they would choose if they could have their dream present. The kids wanted everything from a laptop computer to more traditional toys. Then they were told to name something that might be good for their parents. The ideas included jewelry, a big screen television, articles of clothing and such.

The children were delighted with the idea of being able to provide a surprise for their family members but soon learned that there was a twist. They would either receive the gift for themselves or the one that they had chosen for the parent. With the two items sitting in front of them every youngster took only seconds to conclude that giving was far more important than receiving and they picked the presents for their loved ones, noting that nothing was better than family. In the end the children actually received both gifts but not before genuinely believing that they were giving up their own dream presents.

Human nature tends toward goodness rather than evil. We see news reports of vile incidents but given the millions upon millions of people on this earth they are the exception rather than the rule. One of the reasons that we are so shocked when violent acts occur is because the odds of their happening is generally low. Mostly our world is filled with decent people who have generous spirits much like the children who were willing to sacrifice their hearts’ desires for their parents.

The kids were correct in noting how much their moms and dads had done for them. The average parents do incredible things for their children on a regular basis, setting needs and desires aside just so the little ones will enjoy safe and happy lives. Their offspring are rarely far from their thoughts. They feed and clothe them and provide as safe and loving environments as possible. They teach them and play with them. Theirs are full time jobs that begin early in the morning hours and extend until late at night, sometimes with interruptions that deprive them of sleep. The routines last for years and even when the children leave home as adults the parents still worry and fret. Somehow the caring behaviors are almost instinctual with models for parenting passed down from one generation to the next.

Of course we hear of want, abuse, neglect, broken families and we worry that our society is losing some of its vitality. We wonder if single parent homes are as strong as those with two parents. We fret that very non-traditional situations may harm children. I have found in my own experience that as long as the household is centered on love, kids will thrive. They do not need things as much as they need to know that someone truly cares for them.

I often hark back to stories that I have heard from my students. I recall the little girl whose only wish was that her mother might receive a mattress from Santa Claus so that her parent would no longer have to sleep on a pallet on the floor. I think of the young man whose goal of graduating from high school was motivated by the sacrifices that his mom made everyday. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of her arriving home from work late each night after toiling for fifteen hours. He spoke of her exhaustion and swollen ankles and her never ending desire to build a better life for him. He was determined to do whatever it took to pay her back for all that she had done.

My own mother had few possessions. Her focus had always been on me and my brothers and eventually on her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Her closet held more gifts for us than clothing for her. She kept a card table at the ready for wrapping presents and shopped for bargains all year long, storing items away for birthdays and Christmas. She enjoyed our excursions to stores where she might find a seventy or eighty percent off sale with additional coupons that brought prices down to a range that she might afford. She combed through aisles searching for just the right delights for each person. When the time came to present her treasures to the lucky recipients she felt as joyful in watching them react as she would have if she had been surprised with a brand new car. Like the children who were willing to give up their own gifts, our mama essentially chose to sacrifice her personal desires in favor of ours over and over again.

I have enjoyed reading since I was quite young. One of my favorite stories from O. Henry was The Gift of the Magi. It is a Christmas classic that tells of a young man and woman with very little money who struggle to purchase each other the perfect gift. The ironic tale demonstrates our human tendency to go to great lengths to bring happiness to those that we most love.

In this holiday season the stores will be filled with people hoping to find the perfect gifts to demonstrate their profound feelings for their families and their friends. Some see this tradition as being too commercial but I choose to think of it as an outward sign of our never ending love for those who mean so much to us. We may sometimes overdo things a bit but for most of us the intent is as pure as the characters in O. Henry’s story. The season of giving derives from the ultimate sacrifice that the baby born in a manger in Bethlehem so long ago would eventually make for all of us, His very life.

This is my favorite time of year when our generous natures shine forth in the lights and the many symbols of the season. Whether we celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa, or simply enjoy a holiday from work there is a happiness all around the world that comes from sharing our blessings with others. We’ve been celebrating and giving in the middle of winter for centuries and something tells me that we will continue for many more, at least I hope that is the case. Underneath all of the tinsel is love.