The season of frenzied buying has begun. Retailers will ring in thebulk of their annual sales during the next few weeks from shopperswanting to purchase that perfect gift. But Great Lakes Radio Consortiumcommentator Suzanne Elston says sometimes the perfect gift is no gift atall:
Transcript
The season of frenzied buying has begun. Retailers will ring in the bulk of their annual sales during the next few weeks from shoppers wanting to purchase that perfect gift. But Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Suzanne Elston says sometimes the perfect gift is no gift at all.
As a self-confessed Christmas junkie, I want the holidays to be perfect. Especially for my kids. When the boys were little we did everything to preserve the magical myth of Santa Claus. Right after Labor Day, we’d start wondering out loud what the boys wanted Santa to bring them that year. This strategy worked pretty well until the year our son Peter turned five.
Try as we might, he simply wouldn’t tell us. Peter’s always believed absolutely in the magic of things. We assumed he’d figured that if Santa knew if he’d been bad or good, then knowing what he wanted was a cinch. With only ten days to go before Christmas, the store shelves were looking pretty bare. I was getting desperate, so I finally had to tell him the facts. Santa couldn’t read his mind. He was just going to have to write his list that very afternoon.
It was clear that the news was not received well. I left him alone in his room to think about it for a little while and told him I’d be back with pen and paper in hand. He’d better be ready.
When I returned a few minutes later, I could hear his little voice out in the hall. He was singing. “I hope Christmas doesn’t get here, I hope Christmas doesn’t get here.” When I opened his door he was sitting on his bed, looking around his room in complete dismay and crying his heart out.
When I asked him what on earth could be wrong he said he didn’t need any more toys. He didn’t have time to play with the toys that he had.
I couldn’t believe it. In trying to give our children so much, we had failed to see that they already had more than they could possibly want. I held him on my knee and gently rocked him until he stopped crying. And then I asked Peter if he’d like to pack up some of his old toys and donate them to the local homeless shelter. He thought about it for a while, and then he told me that he finally knew what he wanted to say to Santa.
He wrote,” Please don’t bring me any toys for Christmas. I have lots of toys. Please give my toys to the poor kids. Have a Merry Christmas. Your friend, Peter.”
Honoring his request was one of the hardest things my husband and I have ever done. Peter’s older brother had already ordered half the Sears catalogue. We were concerned what would happen Christmas morning. But we had faith that our son knew what was best for him. We did get him a few things: some art supplies and stuff, nothing that could be classified as a toy, and he was perfectly happy Christmas
morning.
I got some special gifts that year too. I learned to not only trust what’s in my heart, but in my children’s hearts as well. I also realized that I already had more than anyone could possibly want. It was a great Christmas.