Yes, I loved getting presents. I can't deny it. (Still do, actually.) But that wasn't what excited me most about the Season. Nor was it Santa Claus, snow, or the two weeks of school we'd miss because of Christmas break. Granted, I LOVED those things, and I cherished them when the holidays rolled around. But those things alone weren't what gave me the energy of an over-excited puppy.
It was the giving.
Every year, on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, our church would put up a Giving Tree. An artificial tree set up right inside the front doors and adorned with paper ornaments displaying the first name, age, and holiday wish of a person in need. Red, gold, silver, green, and blue - those paper ornaments shimmered with hope.
Each year I would sit through that Sunday's sermon with all the impatience of a kid on Christmas Eve - my feet tapping anxiously on the pew ahead of me, my head constantly swiveling around to catch a glimpse of the tree through the big picture window at the back of the chapel. And finally, FINALLY when the service was over, I'd leap up and practically tear my way through the other parishioners to get to that tree.
Oh, the excitement of picking an ornament from the Giving Tree. I'd always take forever, reading each and every tag carefully - just waiting for the ah-ha feeling that would let me know which ornament to take. It was always such an intense moment for me. I didn't want to leave anyone out, and I most certainly wanted to make sure I was helping someone who really, really, really needed it.
I always picked the children. Back then, I couldn't fathom waking up on Christmas morning to no presents. No tree. No holiday dinner. It was my belief that no other kid should have to experience that, either.
I usually picked three or four ornaments (despite my mother's warnings to pick "only one this year Lisa, only one") and bought way more than the people had actually asked for. Each item I bought, and each person I bought for, made me feel good. Great, actually. Absolutely super-fantastic. In fact, there were quite a few times where I felt undeniably selfish and almost flat out ashamed as my giving was, in reality, probably giving me more satisfaction than the people I was buying the gifts for.
But all self-serving thoughts aside, I loved it. To me, it represented the true spirit of Christmas.
It's been years since I've taken a tag from a giving tree. Years. And, with that being said, it's been far too long since I've donated my time, money, or energy for a good purpose.
I miss that feeling. That wonderfully warm, mushy feeling that gushes through your chest when you take a step (or two or three) outside of your own little world and venture into another's. That heady, euphoric feeling that comes from putting your own life on hold and living, just for a moment, for someone else.
I realize now that my life was far more full and worthwhile when I took a stand and made a contribution to a good cause.
So today I'm challenging myself. From now on, I'm going to look for ways to make a difference. Each and every day. Big differences. Little differences. It doesn't matter. A bag of dog food for the animal shelter. A bag-full of groceries for the local soup kitchen. A couple of jackets for Coats For Kids.
And, this Christmas, a few ornaments from a giving tree.
** Take a peek at the trailer for the most life-altering documentary ever made - The Shift. Inspiring and thought-provoking... What are you going to do to make a difference?
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"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world."
-- Anne Frank
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