The Joy of Giving

What is your first memory of Christmas?

Perhaps it involves receiving a special gift? Maybe it’s a memory of going to a relative’s home for the holiday, singing carols as a family or making luminaries. Perhaps it’s your first memory of being at the Christmas Eve service.

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Do you remember the first time you knew the joy of giving, rather than receiving?

The first time I remember being excited about giving was the first time I made gifts to give my family. I was about ten years old, and at that time we didn’t do crafts at school to take home. But a children’s program on TV had a craft spot where they demonstrated how to make things. When it got close to Christmas they always showed you how to make a hanging Advent candleholder – it involved coat hangers and tinsel, but I could never figure out what to hang it from, as it was fairly big!

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Anyway, one week they showed you how to make a snowman gift holder. It was a glass jar, covered with cotton wool and decorated to look like a snowman, then filled with something appropriate for the recipient.

I made one each for my parents, my sister and my grandparents. The ones for my mum and nana were filled with bath salts, my dad’s and grandad’s with mini-cigars (provided by Mum!) and my sister’s with candy. They were quite large and I wanted them to be a surprise on Christmas morning, which was when we opened our presents. This was made extra difficult by the fact that we were spending Christmas away that year.

We were going to be with my nana and grandad at an old coast guard’s cottage on the east coast. So I had to secrete them in my suitcase, and keep them hidden in my bedroom. Then I had to somehow place them on the mantelpiece on Christmas morning before anyone was up, so they’d be a surprise. 

One major obstacle was getting downstairs without disturbing everyone. The upstairs bedrooms at the cottage all connected directly with each other, with no hallway. So, on Christmas morning, before anyone else was awake I had to creep from our bedroom without disturbing my sister, then through my parents’ bedroom, then into my grandparents’ bedroom where the stairs were. Tiptoeing down the creaky stairway I made it downstairs without anyone knowing (or letting on that they knew!) I carefully placed my glass snowmen jars on the mantelpiece and waited for everyone else to wake up.

I still remember the wonderful feeling I had when my family saw them and their surprise when they opened them up. 

The joy of giving. Do you remember feeling that for the first time? Please share your story in the comments – we’d love to hear it 

Sue Palmer