Uncle relaxed on the sofa with his mug of coffee reflecting on another Christmas morning at his sister’s home. All the gifts under the tree were opened, the lights on the tree were off, and old versions of Christmas carols were softly playing in the background. He closed his eyes, sighed, and slowly settled into a rare feeling of peace.
He has spent the last four Christmas holidays with his sister’s family. His wife had been killed in a car accident, and his sister insisted that he not spend Christmas alone. As much as he thought he wanted to be by himself, in his soul he appreciated the fact that she would not relent until he agreed to join her and her family. He was just beginning to allow himself to return to the belief that there was something about Christmas that brought the feeling of togetherness in the family – even if it wasn’t his.
All of the excitement leading up to opening the gifts was over. What was concealing the gifts was now torn to bits and strewn across the living room floor. His sister’s three children were still in their pajamas playing with their new toys. Those things they “had to have” were now theirs, but they were already eye-balling the others’ gifts with twinges of “I want that” in their minds.
His sister plopped down next to him with a smile on her face, gave him a hug, and said, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Uncle nodded but silently wished his wife was alive and was with her instead. His sister watched the children and playing and said, “You know, I spent I don’t know how many hours listening to the kids for what they wanted for Christmas, more hours in stores searching for them, and too many hours wrapping them. Now, look at this place! It’s all over, and they seem like they’re already bored with them!!”
“Well, at least you gave some consideration to what they wanted,” Uncle sniffed. “Don’t you remember Christmas with Mom and Dad? They never cared what we wanted. What they gave us was only what they wanted to give – not what we wanted.
“Yeah, I remember,” replied his sister. “I wanted this new Barbie doll so badly. I dropped more hints on Mom and Dad than popcorn at a movie theater. When Christmas morning finally, came, I remember feeling like I was going to come out of my skin hoping for that doll. Dad hands me a box that was just the right size for the doll. I ripped open the paper only to find a box full of socks and underwear!!!” The sister and uncle both laughed out loud as only they could truly appreciate the “thoughtfulness” of their parents.
“Still, to this day, I look forward to opening gifts – especially at Christmas,” the sister sighed. “There’s always been something about Christmas morning that has always made it easier for me to wake up. I still feel like a child hoping that someone has thought enough about me to give me something I need.”
“I used to feel like that, too,” replied Uncle. “But after the car accident, I pretty much lost the feelings I used to feel at Christmas. For awhile, everything that I thought was true and real was gone. Christmas was more painful because of what it used to be but no longer is.”
“Even though the painful memories are still there, I really do appreciate you making me join your family. I know I may not seem like I’m enjoying myself sometimes, but you’ve reminded me that Christmas can be a time for easing the pain. You know I’m not good at stuff like this, but thank …” “Uncle, Uncle!! Look at how cool my toys are!” shouted the youngest of the children. Once the other two saw the youngest vying for Uncle’s attention, they ran up to him to have him check out their new stuff.
The whole family was back in the living room. Suddenly, the lights on the tree came on. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Uncle has always believed there is an unexplained attraction to the light that comes from the tree – a kind of royalty to it. It seems to draw people to gather around it – regardless if they’re related or even know each other.
With the light coming from the tree, one of the children noticed there was a gift on the tree. “I don’t remember seeing a gift on the tree,” said one of the children. “How did it get there?” Uncle asked.
“I put it there,” Father said.
“Why hasn’t anyone opened it yet?” asked Sister. “The thought of an unopened gift doesn’t make any sense.”
“No it doesn’t.” Father said. “It actually is kind of sad – don’t you think?”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Who’s it for?” asked one of the children.
“Nobody’s name is on the gift tag.” Father said. “This gift is for everyone.”