When I was a kid, my own world was the only one that really mattered to me. When it came to Christmas, it was all about me and what presents I would get. I was basically kidnapped and forced, entirely against my will, to spend my hard earned money on my two brothers. Of course, I hated that part of deal. But, after a careful and well-thought out cost-benefit analysis, I figured that my net take was pretty decent. Not bad for an average kid dealing with a fat old man in a sooty red suit.
As I got older and started to come into who I was, the Christmas season meant less and less to me. I remember loving being on campus at college during the holiday break as the place was basically deserted and I felt a certain peace. Again my motives were entirely selfish. I could finally catch up on some work that I wanted to do, I would have the computer systems all to myself, I would not have to deal with anyone.
Today, I find myself in a different place entirely. I get very few gifts any more, and it really doesn't bother me. Not one bit. This Christmas time of year never really was about me. My focus at this time of year is to celebrate the birth of Christ and to recognize what he endured for me.
This season of the year is also time to celebrate being with my most wonderful daughter. In her I find love and acceptance, in her I see my real reason for being here on this Earth, in her I can celebrate life.
As I was wrapping my daughter's Christmas presents the other day, I was given pause to stand back from the neatly wrapped boxes and fancy bows. I envisioned her reactions to each new goody that she would unwrap. I could hear her laughter and see her smiles. I could feel her hugs and gratefulness. This is all that really matters. You see, Christmas was never really about me.