When I was 12 years old and the Thanksgiving meal had been cooked and eaten, I looked around and observed everyone scurrying around to buy gifts with money they did not have. It caused me to feel melancholy, and I didn’t quite understand it. Some attributed this to seasonal blues, but it was really more than that.
As the days passed, and the time to exchange gifts drew closer and closer, I found I did not want to buy gifts, and I just couldn’t make myself do it. So, instead, I wrote everyone letters, telling them what they meant to me. It took some time, but it filled my heart with love. I thought, “This is what Christmas is really all about.”
When Christmas finally arrived, I found myself feeling embarrassed, receiving physical gifts while everyone received my plain white sealed envelope with my letter to them handwritten on yellow legal pad paper. I wanted to leave the room in shame, feeling I just didn’t belong in this world, but I forced myself to stay, and I watched my beloved grandfather move to the side of the room and sit on my piano bench as he opened and read his letter. When he finished, he folded it and put it in his shirt pocket. He then turned to me, and in front of everyone, said it was the best gift he ever received. My heart swelled, and my blues were gone.
Seven years later, when I was 18, we received a phone call to let us know that my grandfather had a heart attack and had died instantly. Everyone was stunned. I was heartbroken. When we arrived at my grandparents’ home, my grandmother put an old crumpled note in my hand and told me, “They found this in Papaw’s pocket. That’s the letter you wrote to him that Christmas. He carried it in his pocket every day, and when he was feeling down or insecure, he would take it out and read it.” I looked down in disbelief. In the letter I told him how proud he made me and how proud I was to come from him, that when he walked into a room and people asked if he were my grandfather that I would proudly say, “Yes, that’s my grandfather!” It apparently was a gift that kept giving, every day, and it cost nothing but my time and effort.
When you watch the stampedes at the stores this season on Black Friday, I hope you will remember this little story and perhaps think of something new to do. Sometimes, the very thing you have to say to someone can be the best gift they ever received. It may be exactly what they need.