Tuesday, December 4, 2007 at 2:02am
The true spirit of giving
Column: Life at First Sight
I've been a member of the Baha'i Faith for many years, and our gift-giving season is in February, way past the time when Christmas shoppers are cramming the malls for last-minute gifts. I still enjoy celebrating Christmas with my Christian family and friends.
One family I know was sitting around their Thanksgiving table last year when the subject of Christmas inevitably came up. Only this time, the discussion led to a little revolution.
"It all feels like it belongs to the mall and the advertisers more than anything else," said one. All agreed that, in their efforts to be good stewards, they felt frustration at how such a holy season had become about consumption of goods rather than celebration of spirit.
As Christmas approached each year, most of them found themselves in a slow-moving sea of frenzied humanity, cramming what had come to feel like an obligatory burden into already overscheduled days.
As their discussion lasted long beyond the coffee and pie, they decided to try an experiment. Why not find a different approach and actually enjoy this beautiful season completely, and for all the right reasons?
What they devised together turned into one of the very best experiences they've shared. First, they took the holiday meal-planning off anyone's shoulders by making it a cooperative affair that three family members volunteered to oversee and organize. They'd already been leaning in this direction over the years, trying to find creative ways to keep any of them from getting marooned in the kitchen.
Their new gift-giving strategy was their biggest brainstorm. They agreed that whatever presents each chose to give, the gift had to involve recycling something that had already been owned or used. The focus wasn't about offloading junk or unwanted items, but rather to find a way to personalize Christmas more than it had been for a long time by really giving time and thought to finding something right for the recipient. The goal was to also re-invest an item with more meaning as it found a new life of usefulness for someone else.
Some resorted to visiting secondhand stores; some looked among their own belongings. One segment of the family had a little "trading day" with others they knew, in order to create a cache of prospective items from which to choose. Some traded or bartered goods or services with others in order to obtain the right gift, and some made the gifts themselves, of course.
One resourceful member created a wallet-sized, fabric-swatch booklet for a color-blind sibling, with colors clearly labeled so that if he ever chooses a purple shirt again when he thinks it's blue, he'll at least know how others identify that shade.
A grandchild who annually gobbled most of a certain cookie produced by his aunt received a tin canister of these — the tin discovered at a church rummage sale — shaped like his favorite "Sesame Street" character.
One much-appreciated gift was the photograph albums that several members made their pet project, assembled and captioned from photos they'd had on hand, or from forgotten photos in drawers, closets or boxes.
One environmentally friendly rule was that no commercial gift wrap was allowed. Most wrapped their gifts in newspaper, while some created their own hand-decorated paper, or wrapped their present in a collage of magazine images inspired by the recipient. Other givers borrowed from a tradition associated with St. Nicholas Day, celebrated on Dec. 6 in Europe, in which the goal is to make the packaging or wrapping itself as creative or fun as possible. Since one recipient loved to play pool, the giver designed her package to look like a miniature pool table. Another family member had to wade through a dish of dark Jell-O to find his gift.
Beyond the money they saved, the credit-card balances they didn't run up, and the traffic and stress they avoided, these folks found many different benefits in this family-friendly Christmas. Most said that they actually looked forward to the day together, and experienced a fun kind of anticipation that made them feel like kids again.
The best part, they say, is that the process of giving gifts in this way often became a source of wonderfully humorous or moving stories, which made their holiday together even more intimate and enjoyable. Those stories were almost gifts in themselves, ones they're likely to share with each other over and over as holidays roll around each year.
When gift-giving is about people — God's most important creation — it captures the deepest spirit of the season.
Not long after I heard about their experience, life gave me a precious little "pass it on with love" experience of my own. One of the very last things I bought for my father was a Christmas tree. He was struggling to make peace with having to leave his home and accept the care of assisted living as he entered his final days at this time last year. And I was trying to create Christmas around him — while my heart seemed to be simultaneously breaking in half.
My daughter accompanied me to find an artificial tree for her grandfather's new home, and we bought the very last one the store had, which was about the same height as my daughter's petite frame, with twinkling tiny lights already attached.
After my father died last June, that tree and the box it came in got stockpiled, along with many other things I wasn't ready to face quite yet. Finally, two weeks ago, I knew that it was time to pack it up, along with a number of other things I needed to bring to the thrift shop. But it was very, very hard to think about taking it there.
"Let's set it up in its stand so that people are more likely to notice it, and also see how very nice it looks," my husband suggested, then thoughtfully unpacked and assembled it.
The following day, I drove a car packed to the gunwales to the local secondhand thrift store, feeling the weight of the grief and sadness that had been stirred by sorting through so many of my father's things.
Then as I was unpacking the tree from my car, they magically appeared — a kind-faced young man with his little girl clutching his hand. They came up to me tentatively and asked very politely whether, if I were going to leave the tree there anyway, it might be OK for them to take it.
Could my father, the universe, the Creator of it all — take-your-pick — have possibly sent a more profound and relevant sort of reassurance?
I hugged them both spontaneously and said that, of COURSE, I knew that it would delight my father if they were to have it, and I hoped that they were going to have an absolutely wonderful Christmas.
Then I noticed the woman who was with them, too, standing off to the side. Just when I was thinking that they all must think I'm crazy, she gave me a big smile and thanked me, and then the other two, who were still a little stunned by my response, began thanking me, as well. Her smile reminded me a little bit of my mother, I have to say.
In a little book called "The Hidden Words," Baha'u'llah says of God's design, "To give and to be generous are attributes of Mine."
What a gift it is to us when life allows our giving to be the precise answer to someone's need.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
One family I know was sitting around their Thanksgiving table last year when the subject of Christmas inevitably came up. Only this time, the discussion led to a little revolution.
"It all feels like it belongs to the mall and the advertisers more than anything else," said one. All agreed that, in their efforts to be good stewards, they felt frustration at how such a holy season had become about consumption of goods rather than celebration of spirit.
As Christmas approached each year, most of them found themselves in a slow-moving sea of frenzied humanity, cramming what had come to feel like an obligatory burden into already overscheduled days.
As their discussion lasted long beyond the coffee and pie, they decided to try an experiment. Why not find a different approach and actually enjoy this beautiful season completely, and for all the right reasons?
What they devised together turned into one of the very best experiences they've shared. First, they took the holiday meal-planning off anyone's shoulders by making it a cooperative affair that three family members volunteered to oversee and organize. They'd already been leaning in this direction over the years, trying to find creative ways to keep any of them from getting marooned in the kitchen.
Their new gift-giving strategy was their biggest brainstorm. They agreed that whatever presents each chose to give, the gift had to involve recycling something that had already been owned or used. The focus wasn't about offloading junk or unwanted items, but rather to find a way to personalize Christmas more than it had been for a long time by really giving time and thought to finding something right for the recipient. The goal was to also re-invest an item with more meaning as it found a new life of usefulness for someone else.
Some resorted to visiting secondhand stores; some looked among their own belongings. One segment of the family had a little "trading day" with others they knew, in order to create a cache of prospective items from which to choose. Some traded or bartered goods or services with others in order to obtain the right gift, and some made the gifts themselves, of course.
One resourceful member created a wallet-sized, fabric-swatch booklet for a color-blind sibling, with colors clearly labeled so that if he ever chooses a purple shirt again when he thinks it's blue, he'll at least know how others identify that shade.
A grandchild who annually gobbled most of a certain cookie produced by his aunt received a tin canister of these — the tin discovered at a church rummage sale — shaped like his favorite "Sesame Street" character.
One much-appreciated gift was the photograph albums that several members made their pet project, assembled and captioned from photos they'd had on hand, or from forgotten photos in drawers, closets or boxes.
One environmentally friendly rule was that no commercial gift wrap was allowed. Most wrapped their gifts in newspaper, while some created their own hand-decorated paper, or wrapped their present in a collage of magazine images inspired by the recipient. Other givers borrowed from a tradition associated with St. Nicholas Day, celebrated on Dec. 6 in Europe, in which the goal is to make the packaging or wrapping itself as creative or fun as possible. Since one recipient loved to play pool, the giver designed her package to look like a miniature pool table. Another family member had to wade through a dish of dark Jell-O to find his gift.
Beyond the money they saved, the credit-card balances they didn't run up, and the traffic and stress they avoided, these folks found many different benefits in this family-friendly Christmas. Most said that they actually looked forward to the day together, and experienced a fun kind of anticipation that made them feel like kids again.
The best part, they say, is that the process of giving gifts in this way often became a source of wonderfully humorous or moving stories, which made their holiday together even more intimate and enjoyable. Those stories were almost gifts in themselves, ones they're likely to share with each other over and over as holidays roll around each year.
When gift-giving is about people — God's most important creation — it captures the deepest spirit of the season.
Not long after I heard about their experience, life gave me a precious little "pass it on with love" experience of my own. One of the very last things I bought for my father was a Christmas tree. He was struggling to make peace with having to leave his home and accept the care of assisted living as he entered his final days at this time last year. And I was trying to create Christmas around him — while my heart seemed to be simultaneously breaking in half.
My daughter accompanied me to find an artificial tree for her grandfather's new home, and we bought the very last one the store had, which was about the same height as my daughter's petite frame, with twinkling tiny lights already attached.
After my father died last June, that tree and the box it came in got stockpiled, along with many other things I wasn't ready to face quite yet. Finally, two weeks ago, I knew that it was time to pack it up, along with a number of other things I needed to bring to the thrift shop. But it was very, very hard to think about taking it there.
"Let's set it up in its stand so that people are more likely to notice it, and also see how very nice it looks," my husband suggested, then thoughtfully unpacked and assembled it.
The following day, I drove a car packed to the gunwales to the local secondhand thrift store, feeling the weight of the grief and sadness that had been stirred by sorting through so many of my father's things.
Then as I was unpacking the tree from my car, they magically appeared — a kind-faced young man with his little girl clutching his hand. They came up to me tentatively and asked very politely whether, if I were going to leave the tree there anyway, it might be OK for them to take it.
Could my father, the universe, the Creator of it all — take-your-pick — have possibly sent a more profound and relevant sort of reassurance?
I hugged them both spontaneously and said that, of COURSE, I knew that it would delight my father if they were to have it, and I hoped that they were going to have an absolutely wonderful Christmas.
Then I noticed the woman who was with them, too, standing off to the side. Just when I was thinking that they all must think I'm crazy, she gave me a big smile and thanked me, and then the other two, who were still a little stunned by my response, began thanking me, as well. Her smile reminded me a little bit of my mother, I have to say.
In a little book called "The Hidden Words," Baha'u'llah says of God's design, "To give and to be generous are attributes of Mine."
What a gift it is to us when life allows our giving to be the precise answer to someone's need.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.