boots

We teachers sat around the table, enjoying our individual hot pots boiling with vegetables and meat. Most of them are older than me, but not as old as my mother. These women began sharing stories of their various Christmas experiences with their young children, dealing with the knowledge of Santa's identity, the different foods they prepared, the gifts they purchased. I sat there allowing their words to flow into my ears, and stared into the stew bubbling in my hot pot.

I remember a Christmas when my mother bought my sister and me snow boots. Mine were black, red and green with tan accents. My sister's were white, pink and purple, perfect for her girly nature at the time. Both lined with a warm fuzzy material, they were practical gifts, perfect for playing in the snow and keeping out feet warm during the cold winter.

When Christmas vacation ended and we headed back to school, my friend asked me what I had received for Christmas. When she heard I had gotten my boots, she replied, "That's all?" Then came a procession of all the gifts she had received. They danced mockingly before my imagination in what seemed like an endless line... a new digital camera, new school supplies, some various knick-knacks, new sweaters, new dresses, AND new boots (and not snow boots, but the chic kind). My heart dropped. I don't believe I wore my snow boots again.

How ashamed I am to have felt ashamed back then. I think about the lengths my mother must have gone through to procure those boots. The joy she must have felt when she believed to have found the perfect pair for both her daughters. The anticipation she must have felt when we opened our gift boxes. Isn't that the best part of gift-giving? Not necessarily in the receiving, but in the joy in which we give. Our home, run by one paycheck and the perseverance of a single mother, was made incredibly happy that Christmas morning. Only foolish me would have allowed that joy to be diminished by greed and jealousy of material things. Giving all she could with the little that she had. If only I could have understood her generosity, her selflessness and love.

Better late than never. To know the real meaning of gift-giving.

Merry Christmas!