Once upon a time, many years ago, I was a bratty young teenager with a jerky teenage brother. We had spent the entire holiday season bickering- which seems rather funny to me now because our relationship was nothing like that these days. I have no idea what we would even fight over, but we were young and selfish and bratty and jerky. My dad broke down one night that he was tired of all the arguing and wanted to see 'some Christmas spirit' around the house. And then later that week I went out to my car and there was a little note waiting for me.
Happiness and Christmas Spirit is filling your daughter's empty gas tank on a cold winter's morning.
Love,
Dad
It was the simplest of gestures, but one that I definitely appreciated at the time. And it was a reminder to me, one that I've obviously held onto- of what Christmas was really about. It wasn't about how many presents or the cost or the size of them. It was truly the thought that counted. It was about family. It was about being thankful for what you had and for giving to those less fortunate. And even all these years later, I remember that simple act and how it embodied the spirit of Christmas. It was this spirit that I valued so much in my parents. Their generosity continued to amaze me daily. The time and attention they gave to my kids was far greater than any present they could ever ask for. And it didn't just end with me. I could see this in how they treated all their kids, grandkids and extended family. It was actually quite contagious. I had expected my first Christmas post-divorce to feel a little bittersweet, but it was nothing of the sort. It was only filled with happiness and the Christmas spirit.
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