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Finding
Peace: During the Christmas Rush
by Claudia
Goodman
"Wherefore,
be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation
of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is
great."
—D&C
64:33
The children
come bursting through the door after school at breakneck speed.
One scrambles into a dance costume for the Nutcracker Ballet, another
jumps into a basketball uniform, while a third slips on a choir
robe. Mother rushes from one place to the next dropping off children,
trying in vain to find a way to attend all three performances at
once. Suddenly she remembers that the Relief Society Christmas Social
is tonight-and she's supposed to bring homemade goodies. Oops. There's
no time to make anything now; she has been too busy shopping.
Mother's list
of things to buy is astronomical-several gifts for each child, something
extra-special for her husband, presents for the grandparents, the
great-grandparents, her own seven brothers and sisters, her husband's
family, his boss and co-workers, and at least fifteen close neighbors
and friends in the ward, who always exchange small gifts. Then there
is the Sub-for-Santa family she volunteered to help, whose list
of expectations includes over twenty-five items. Time and money
are draining through a sieve at an alarming rate, and the family
seems to be drowning in Christmas activities. Where's the Christmas
cheer? This isn't any fun. There's no time to enjoy the holidays.
Does this story
sound familiar? Let's pause for a minute and take a look at the
other side of Christmas.
Back when I
was a ten-year-old girl and life wasn't so complicated, Christmas
was the highlight of the year for me. I'll never forget the night
my mother and father stayed home from a company Christmas party
just to be with us. We strung popcorn and cranberries, laughed and
sang carols together. I felt like I was in heaven Each night after
school, I turned on the Christmas tree lights and music and sat
in the quiet living room, undisturbed by the outside world. I thought
about the presents I had lovingly wrapped and placed under the tree
and imagined how excited people would be when they opened them.
Oh, they were simple to be sure-a surprise toy from a cereal box
for my uncle, a homemade pencil holder for my sister, a comb for
one of my brothers, a paper airplane for another. But they were
gifts given from my heart, well within the limits of my time and
means.
Then my thoughts
turned to Baby Jesus and the Christmas story. Before I knew it,
tears were rolling down my cheeks as I felt a closeness to Him I
could not describe. I came to know my Savior then in a way seldom
equaled since. Perhaps Jesus comes to visit those who hold still
long enough to enjoy His presence, as Mary did so long ago.
Now those days
are gone for many of us. We live in a world where every moment is
crammed to the max-mostly with worthwhile activities. Yet, how easy
it is to lose our focus and forget why we are doing so many good
things. Sometimes it takes a question like King Benjamin's to bring
us back to reality. "For how knoweth a man the master whom he has
not served...who is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?"
(Mosiah 5:13)
Our well-meant
gifts for the homeless, for extended members of our families, or
even for our own children and spouses can become unbearable burdens
if we are not careful. Jesus Christ Himself set the pattern. He
said, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me...For
my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)
It is interesting
that Jesus gave a different kind of gift. "...Never did he give
shoes, hose, or a vehicle; never did he give perfume, a shirt, or
a fur wrap...His gifts were rare ones: eyes to the blind, ears to
the deaf, and legs to the lame; cleanliness to the unclean, wholeness
to the infirm, and breath to the lifeless. His gifts were opportunity
to the downtrodden, freedom to the oppressed, light in the darkness,
forgiveness to the repentant, hope to the despairing...He gave them
of himself, his love, his service, his life...He gave resurrection,
salvation, and eternal life.
We should strive
to give as he gave. To give of oneself is a holy gift." (Spencer
W. Kimball, The Wondrous Gift, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co.,1978,
p.2.)
Four years ago
our family learned a new dimension of gift-giving. My Christmas
shopping was hardly begun, and time was slipping by. One afternoon
the perfect opportunity presented itself. The older girls were away
at various activities. My husband and the boys had gone to watch
a BYU football game on a neighbor's large screen TV. Our youngest
daughter Aimee was at a Disney movie with a friend. Only ten-year-old
LeAnne and I were left. I considered taking LeAnne shopping with
me, since I didn't want to leave her home alone. Then I paused and
thought with my heart. I knew shopping wouldn't be much fun for
her.
"What would
you like to do?" I asked "Could we put up some Christmas decorations?"
she suggested.
"Sure. Why don't
we set up the Christmas village?"
We retrieved
the boxes from the garage, and I helped LeAnne set out all the cotton
snow and the larger ceramic shops with lights in them. Then I let
her arrange the smaller shops and people while I decorated the railings
with tinsel garlands. We both finished about the same time and admired
each other's work. It was really beginning to feel like Christmas
now as we sat together and felt the music carry its message to our
hearts.
The following
day LeAnne was killed in a car accident along with her two brothers.
After the numbness and pain wore off, an indescribable peace filled
my heart as the memory of setting up the Christmas village with
LeAnne floated back-the last real thing I did with her. It was infinitely
more precious than anything I could have bought her at the store
that afternoon.
The two weeks
following the accident were so all-consuming that it was impossible
to think about Christmas, as we buried three children and prayed
for my husband and two daughters who were not expected to live.
That year we learned for ourselves that the Christmas spirit doesn't
depend at all on how much we buy or how well we decorate-or even
how much we give. When we do all we can, it is enough.
Our best Christmas
present came unexpectedly. Through the efforts of a dedicated hospital
staff, our daughter Andrea was transferred to the same hospital
as Aimee. On Christmas morning we went to ICU to check on Andrea.
To our amazement, she was doing so well that they decided to move
her into the room next to Aimee, who was still so incoherent that
she didn't remember anyone. We followed the nurse excitedly! When
we got to the room, Aimee suddenly recognized Andrea and ran into
her arms. They embraced, so happy to see each other! I looked up
with tears in my eyes. There stood Elder Richard G. Scott, smiling.
He had been visiting with Aimee and was enjoying the reunion as
much as we were.
At that moment
the things that were usually important about Christmas faded into
oblivion. Our smattering of decorations was enough. The gifts we
hadn't been able to buy or make didn't matter. Even our treasured
traditions would keep for another year. But right now we had more
than we could ever ask for. We had each other forever, even if three
of us were angels, and why? Because of a precious baby born two
thousand years ago. We had never had so much to celebrate as we
remembered the message of the angel choir, "Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men." We realized
that we had been given the greatest gifts of all-eternal life, love,
joy, and peace. Merry Christmas!
(The last two
stories are included in Parting the Red Sea One Bucket at a Time,
by Claudia Goodman, Family Foundation Press, 2000, pp. 111-112,
164-165, available at LDS bookstores and www.goodmanfamily.org
)
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