Unwrapping Christmas

The Christmas mornings of my childhood were magical. I remember my brothers and sister and I creeping into the living room at some insanely early hour, eagerly and exuberantly exploring our Christmas stockings and happily discovering our big unwrapped gift from Santa, never tagged, but always easy to identify which one was for which kid. And then we’d wait for our Mom to get her coffee so that we could dig into our pile of wrapped gifts. I can still see her sweet face, sleepy and happy, while she sipped her coffee, legs curled under her on the couch, as we opened our gifts one by one. We were good at gratitude, the four of us, and each opened gift was usually followed by a hug and an effusive thank you. “Is it the right size?” my mother would ask, or “do you like the color?” Whatever it was, we always assured her, honestly, that it was perfect and I don’t remember any of us ever putting anything aside to be returned. Our presents were always a surprise, as our family didn’t really believe in Christmas lists, and we actually felt a little sorry for our friends who got exactly what they asked for and did not get to experience the joy of surprise on this magical morning.

By all counts, my childhood would probably not be considered the most stable or conventional. We moved a lot and lived in multiple states, which meant we all went to a number of different schools. My Mom was a single parent for much of that time and even later when she was married to my stepfather, life was always adventurous—but seldom predictable and often tumultuous. And, while I never knew true poverty, I knew that money was almost always an issue and it made me sensitive to our family’s economic position and appreciative of what we did have. Nonetheless, I remember only good Christmases, filled with wonder and joy, and it is only recently that I have really come to appreciate my Mother’s amazing ability to create such incredible memories for us, even in the midst of her own challenges. I am certain that it is the reason that each of my siblings loves Christmas just as much as I do.

When I think back now, I think most of the little traditions—the advent wreath with candles at our dinner table, the manger scene that sat under the tree and our Christmas stockings, monogramed with glitter, sans the one that had gone missing—Richie’s—which had been replaced by one that didn’t match the others, his name written plainly on a piece of masking tape. We loved our special appetizer-only Christmas Eve dinner which always ended with each of us kids opening one present and the happy work of leaving a snack for Santa. I can still remember my little brothers in the morning, marveling at the left-over crumbs on the plate and the half-eaten carrots for the reindeer. We always had a real tree with big multi-colored lights, and of course, a multitude of familiar ornaments, many home-made, others acquired at the local five and dime or at the thrift markets we loved to visit. Our awe and nostalgia, each December, as we opened the worn cardboard box that held these beloved treasures, each of us exclaiming at a favorite ornament. Even now, the earthy pine scent of a real Christmas tree transports me directly to these long ago memories and although I have certainly enjoyed decades of joyous Christmases with my own children and step-children, as I get older, it is the Christmases of my own childhood that bubble to the surface when I first smell that familiar scent.

In the last couple of years, I’ve been thinking about Christmas quite a bit and really, just trying to take stock of the great joy and and magic it has added to my life. As with so many things in my life, I have begun to evaluate what exactly it is that makes it so wonderful. My answer is no revelation—family, love, gratitude, tradition, magic, wonder, joy, surprise, nostalgia—but my decision to change things up a little might be surprising to some.

Last year, I had the idea of making Christmas a gift-free holiday. What if we just celebrated the season together, without worrying about buying presents? I asked members of my small family and the handful of close friends I exchange gifts with. We could celebrate together doing all the things we love, but leave the physical presents out of it. If we wanted to give each other something, it had to be something home-made—a playlist, a craft or a favorite treat—or the promise of an outing together—a full day doing something we love, a concert, a museum or a weekend getaway. Much to my surprise and delight, my people were all on board. And so in December of 2022, a new tradition was born—and honestly, Christmas has never felt more magical.

Now, to be fair, our children are grown and working and I’m not sure I would have done this when they were little. And to be totally transparent, when my grandchildren are visiting or I am visiting them, all bets are off. But, for my grown up family and close friends, the new rule for Christmas in our home is: Bring your Christmas spirit and your Scrabble skills, but leave the gifts at home. Your presence is our present.

To be honest, I never really realized how much time I spent shopping and wrapping Christmas presents until I didn’t. Last year, I did not enter a single store (unless to buy food or wine) during the Christmas season, nor did I order a single thing online, nor wrap a single gift. I’m not going to lie, it felt weird and a little unsettling not to spend a good portion of December thinking about what to buy people and how to wrap it in a beautiful package. I almost caved on December 23rd when I just couldn’t imagine Christmas Eve without gifts under the tree, but my husband talked me off the ledge and I held strong. And, I’m so glad I did.

The take-aways:

For me, shopping at Christmastime isn’t fun. It’s hectic and stressful. When I took shopping out of the holiday equation, I suddenly had so much less stress about finding the perfect gift and so much more time to enjoy the season. Instead of ruminating about what to get people, walking around crowded stores for hours, buying all kinds of things I didn’t want or need until I saw them, and artfully wrapping gift after gift, I did the kinds of things that really got me feeling the Christmas spirit: I made a whole day of baking my favorite Christmas cookies (pictured here) and listening to Christmas music. We invited a few friends over to celebrate the season. We danced in the living room. We went to a Christmas concert and went out for a few very festive and enjoyable dinners and brunches with friends at places we knew were alight with the Christmas spirit. Our family Christmas was just as lovely as always. The food was wonderful, the champagne was sparkly, the Yul log burned on the flat screen, while Christmas music played in the background—and the Scrabble game was spirited and hilarious, just as we like it.

I have also found that there is this Zen thing that happens to many people my age and it often manifests in the deep conviction that less really is more. Like so many people I know, I literally have everything I need and I simply do not want any more stuff. And, just as importantly, I really don’t want to participate in the kind of frenzied consumerism that often eclipses the simple joy of the season. Until last year, I spent every December 26th of my life disposing of a veritable mountain of used wrapping paper and all manners of packaging and shipping boxes. It always left me with this feeling of letdown—all that work and poof, it’s over!—and also embarrassed at the excess—how is it that our little family created all this waste?

Finally, this shift has very little to do with money, believe it or not. Although not buying gifts might seem like it would save a lot of money, for me, it feels like a shift in priorities. Instead of buying stuff, I intentionally spend resources on the kinds of things that bring me joy. Eating and drinking with friends and family, enjoying my city’s dazzling holiday vibe, planning and booking a spring trip and going out to hear live music are all things that I would rather devote my time and resources to.

So this is just to say, I love Christmas, the spiritual part and the sparkly part. I love the way it brings families and neighbors together and compels total strangers to smile at each other on the streets of my city. I also love the feelings of generosity and gratitude that are etched into my being and which feel especially close and important this time of year. Shifting the way I celebrate has only amplified these feelings and if any part of this little post resonates with you, I highly recommend giving it a try.