The Gift

I remember the Christmas as if it were yesterday; but in fact it was 1963. December of 1963, I was 14 years old.

John F Kennedy was our president up until Nov. 22nd of that year, and then he was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. I remember that day even now in my 60+ years. I sat in 9th grade Science and Mr. Rehburn (not sure of the spelling) was our teacher. He came in after lunch and had the saddest look on his face, and then the speakers in the classroom notified all of us that the President had been killed and school was cancelled. For three days we stood mesmerized by TV's coverage and I cried when the casket on the horse drawn wagon went passed his son, John, and the little boy saluted his daddy's casket.

A couple of weeks later, December 6, just 19 days until Christmas, I walked into our house after delivering my morning paper route and, there in the kitchen, my mother stood crying and told me that my Grandma had died that morning, and I can still remember dropping my paper and beginning to cry all over again. The next three days were a blur as we prepared for my most favorite person in the world's funeral.

It was just three days later, the day my Grandmother was buried, Dec. 9th, that the tears were broken when my sister delivered her first born, and my first time being an Uncle. Doug was the first of many nephews and nieces to follow, but it was a break from three weeks of feeling the loss that perhaps was the greatest gift.

Then Christmas came. I have forgotten many of the Christmas' we had. It's the nature of repeated events that they all blur into one. One Christmas, the gift was a six-shooter and holster; another, a football; another, a game, and who could ever forget the tabletop electric vibrating football game that my brother and I spent countless hours playing. Whether you remember or not, take a look back at this:



That Christmas was like all others, but I've never forgotten it. Why? Because some of the gifts that were given out came from my Grandmom's own hands. She had knitted and sewn things and as they were given out to each of us, the normal cheer was replaced by a solemnity - almost silence. This woman we all had loved had just left us and still we were receiving gifts, and I just didn't know what to do.

Gifts are a part of Christmas. Some are never forgotten, most are. It's not the gift that we usually remember, it's the giver. We love it when someone does something that is thoughtful, meaningful, and personal.

Sort of like God's gift in Jesus.
2 Corinthians 9:15 (NIV)
9:15 Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

Matthew 1:23 (NIV)
1:23 "The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel"--which means, "God with us."

2 Corinthians 9:7 (NIV)
9:7 Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.