The Season of Giving

Recently, I found myself back once again in the middle of the Christmas season. I was brought back to the memories of the magic this season brought to me when I was a young boy. For years now, because of some pretty tough circumstances across the last decade, I hadn't done a very good job of celebrating the season. I always gave gifts to my children, but as far as any decorating or getting into the Christmas spirit, I just hadn't. This year, however, I wanted to change that.

Considering the times we were living in and the impact that this year has had on everyone, especially my oldest son who lives with me, I wanted this Christmas season to be different. My son, Zack, is non-verbal, autistic, and has missed out on so much in life, from the simple joys of having friends and being able to communicate to the most basic thing most of us take for granted: having a mother. His mother had left twelve years ago and had not seen him since. So rather than attempting to spread Christmas joy by doing some grand gesture to a stranger or society as a whole, I set out to try to make this time special for him.

Such an ambition is most likely a common standard for the average parent, but for me it wouldn't be as easy. The season has been probably the hardest time of year for me for many years. This year would be even tougher than usual. When the pandemic started, I had found myself unemployed, and for the first time since he was born, without any money coming in. I made a great living and my monthly bills reflect it. The stress and fear of the possibility of letting my son down by failing to provide a home and a living had weighed on me for such a long time. In spite of everything, I just wanted to put all of that out of my mind and enjoy the season with him in a way I hadn't in so many years.

The first step was to locate the Christmas tree in one of the many storage totes in my garage. Earlier in the year I had remodeled and organized the garage, and it made it much easier to locate this lost relic that I hadn't even looked upon in quite some time. When I had found it, I asked Zack if he wanted me to wait until he got home from school before I put up the tree and he nodded. So the next day, after our evening meal, I retrieved the tote from the garage and brought it into our living room. I asked him if he wanted to help me set the tree up and decorate it, but it was a new day and it seemed that his interest had waned. I continued the process of assembling the tree and the lights and once it was complete, I asked my son if he wanted to hang the bulbs on it and he continued to play the game he was playing without showing any interest. However, after the tree was decorated and the lights turned on, he was suddenly interested again. It would seem at times that he was mesmerized by the majesty and beauty of the tree, and he would examine the bulbs, especially those that were more unique and uncommon. It's not that he had never seen a Christmas tree before; there had been several at different family members' houses. It was likely that he remembered that I always put one up in our house when he was a little boy. Something about this tree, though, was special to him. It could have been that he knew that I didn't typically put one up anymore, or it could have been a much simpler case of nostalgia from years past. With him not speaking and barely communicating basic thoughts, any reasons he may or may not have had were just guesswork.

When it was time for school to cease for the holiday break, Zack got off the bus and ran to the front door as he always did. He had a couple of boxes in his hands that were undoubtedly presents from teachers that he had already unwrapped and a present that was still wrapped. I instructed him to put it under the tree and didn't give it a second thought until some time later when I realized that the present was labeled with the intended receipient of "Dad." My first thought was that his teachers had sent me a gift and I was considering how I should plan a thoughtful gesture as well. Then, a day or two later, I mentioned the present to friend of mine, and she informed me that the school had a small store in it for students that allowed them to spend points that they had earned for different things they might want. At that point I was overcome with emotion. My son had never, with the exception of class assignments that are sent home to parents, given me a gift. The thing that made this even more profound to me was that he could've used his points to buy himself something as he typically would have chosen to do. When I came to this realization, I thanked him of course, but I understood that this was a way to communicate to me that a such a small change in how we chose to celebrate the season this year had a meaningful impact to him.

Now, the new year has already come and the tree is back in its tote in the garage. The living room is back to normal with everything back in its place. My son runs to the bus each morning and runs to the front door each afternoon, excited for school each day but always happy to come home as well. As I reflect on the Christmas season that recently ended, I have come to the conclusion that the several gifts I gave my son and the difficult decision to engage in the holidays pale in comparison to the gift of the experience that he gave me on this Christmas holiday.