For several years now, I’ve been trying to simplify Christmas in our family—without much success. I would especially like to reduce gift-giving to a minimum. “We don’t really need more stuff,” I repeat. “It’s about being together.”
People agree with me in principle and keep on shopping. Especially my daughter who shops year round for this favorite holiday. “Could we just do one gift per person?” I negotiate and she shakes her head. “Maybe next year.”
Clearly, I am in the minority on this issue. But after all these years of giving and receiving, I have come to believe that what makes gifts meaningful isn’t the quantity but the quality of the selection. It’s receiving a scarf that you might have picked out yourself, a coffee mug that just fits your hand. Someone knows you well enough to search out the exact thing—without being told. The gift is being known.
Because being known feels like being loved. Someone has been paying attention.
Every Christmas my daughter gives me colorful cotton undershirts and we all laugh—because they are so ordinary and practical. But they are just what I want and they keep me warm all winter. Inside and out.