As a child, Christmas always came, no matter what. There
were years when our stockings were filled to bursting, and years when they
sagged under the weight of fewer treasures. But somehow, the magic of the
season never dimmed. We were fortunate in ways that mattered most. We always
had gifts to unwrap, but their true value was not in what they were—it was in
the love and thoughtfulness they carried.
That appreciation deepened with time. I find myself
fortunate to have been able to provide for my family – mostly in times of
comfort. Yet, year after year, I’ve noticed something striking: the greatest
joy, the truest Christmas spirit, seems to reside not in abundance, but in
simplicity. It’s often found in those who may have little, but find contentment
in having all they truly need, who give not from surplus but from their hearts,
whose celebrations are woven from the threads of gratitude and faith.
When you have known times of modesty and times of comfort,
you begin to see Christmas differently. It isn’t the weight of the gifts
beneath the tree that defines the season—it’s the weight of the love behind
them. I think often of those quiet years, when gifts might have been fewer, but
their meaning felt profound. A hand-sewn shirt made with care. A toy, carefully
chosen. A simple meal shared with those we love. In those moments, the season’s
essence—connection, hope, and joy—burned brightly.
Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn to the quiet dignity of those
who make magic out of very little. They remind me of what I learned as a child:
that Christmas isn’t something you buy; it’s something you create. A neighbor
sharing homemade fudge cookies. A family decorating their home with lights. A
child’s eyes lighting up at something simple but cherished. These moments are
not extravagant, but they are extraordinary. I am reminded of the story at the
heart of Christmas, of a child born not in wealth but in a humble stable, under
the light of a single, glorious star. It is a story that calls us back to what
matters most—not the outward trappings of the season, but the inner glow it
inspires.
This Christmas, let us remember that the spirit of the
season is not found in abundance, but in gratitude. It is not measured by what
we have, but by what we share. And it is in the quiet hearths, the modest
homes, and the hearts of those who have all they need that the spirit burns
brightest of all. May the quiet light of gratitude and love guide us through
this season and into the days ahead.
Merry Christmas to all.
