I used
to be a consummate Christmas shopper. By the time December hit, I was way ahead
of the game. I would have a mountain of bargain finds, admired goodies and toys
to die for tucked away on a shelf just waiting to be wrapped and stowed lovingly
under the tree. I found that shopping ahead spread the financial burden
throughout the year and helped me avoid the last-minute holiday shopping
rush.
Sounds like a plan, doesn’t it? I thought so, too, until several
years ago. Something happened that made me rethink my supposedly brilliant
strategy.
It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, but I felt like a louse! The tree looked bulimic —
only I was the one who had binged. Brilliantly wrapped packages were
bulging from every available nook and cranny.
I slumped to the floor and
thought, “We have only two children. There’s enough here for
10!”
My husband and I stared at each other. We realized that
things had gotten out of hand. We had to ask ourselves: What message are we
giving our children?
One by one we started dismantling the swollen pile.
This present can wait for a birthday, this one for next Christmas, this one for
a special reward for hard work.
Finally the stack looked
sensible.
Right then and there, we made a decision. In the future,
Christmas gifts would be limited to three types: (1) A gift really desired; (2)
a needed item; 3) something educational. Of course, our children hated the idea
and hoped we would eventually come to our senses.
We haven’t.
And
we’ve seen a change. No longer is Christmas an endless list of “wants.” There is
a new emphasis on cherished gifts. This represents a stark contrast to the
disturbing trend among kids today to feel entitled to get whatever they want,
whenever they want it.
As I’ve listened to children move through the
hallways of our house, I’ve heard the chatter of “more.” “We have more videos
than you.” “I have a CD player in my room.” “You don’t have your own phone
line?” “I’m asking for a laptop.” “You need a cell phone to look
important.”
They get it from their parents. My favorite is the mother who
proudly boasts that her daughter will outdo everyone in the neighborhood. She
will have the best of everything — before everyone else. The daughter knows
this strategy and is horrified if anyone beats her to the material
punch.
Not understanding her conscious intention to overload her daughter
with “stuff,” I naively asked, “Aren’t you worried you’re spoiling her?” The
blank stare she gave me was enough to answer my question.
One summer the
hot ticket was a scooter. Everyone on our block ran to the stores to buy one. My
kids asked, but they knew what was coming: “Tell me again why I should run to
the store to buy you a $100 item?”
Materialism not only distorts the
meaning of Christmas but also creates ungrateful kids. It’s time to stop the
madness. Instead of a new scooter, take your kids to a soup kitchen and let them
serve. Visit a homeless shelter or a hospital children’s ward, and put things in
perspective.
I know what I am saying isn’t new, but we need to hear it
regularly. It’s so easy to indulge our kids this time of year. But we need to
examine our motives.
Is our overindulgence related to guilt from being
absent or unavailable? Is it an attempt to communicate love, compete with
others, create an identity or look successful? Is it the result of idol worship,
a lack of self-restraint or misguided thinking?
When I see kids quickly
open presents and throw them off to the side without even a thank you, I know
something is wrong. When little Suzie tells me Christmas was no fun because she
didn’t get what she wanted, I am concerned. The Grinch hasn’t stolen Christmas;
our ungratefulness has.
Christmas is about God’s giving His Son as a
glorious gift to mankind. Don’t clutter that gift with so many others that He
gets lost in the fray. This season teach the children in your life to cherish
the gift they already have — Jesus.
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Bill Wiese 
Paul McGuire 
