Christmas Jewelry

Early in my marriage, my husband and I set the bar for Christmas gift-giving pretty high, and it just kept getting higher.

I married into a family that went a little berserk at Christmas, giving each person 10 or more gifts (in my home each person got one gift, except those that came from Santa). It was overwhelming and a challenge to our newlywed budget, but my husband insisted that we could not do less than his mother. He was an only child and was used to being lavishly gifted.

Our first Christmas together he gave me a pearl and diamond ring and a mink stole. I gave him a sweater and a tie and felt cheap. The next year I did a lot better, and he upped the ante with more jewelry. I am sure you can see where this is going – the gift giving escalating each year until it became an orgy of extravagance that often put us deeply into debt and tense with the burden of robbing Peter to pay Paul. We just couldn’t seem to stop, and by October of every year, I was sweating bullets the size of Christmas ornaments trying to think of something spectacular that could outdo the year before.

There were the ‘usual’ gifts of diamond rings, stylish outer wear and electronics, but one year came a cowboy hat trimmed in mink, a red fox coat (yes, real animals gave their all), a handmade (by Taos Indians) rabbit jacket and an original oil painting. No matter what I did, I could not seem to best my husband, until the year I gave him a painting of himself with his father created by a Denver artist from two old photographs. That brought a tear to his eyes and was the reward I craved. We really just wanted to make each other happy, after all.

One Christmas we gave both our parents brand new cars, one a red Station Wagon and one white. They were both grateful and, I think, embarrassed.

The pinnacle was reached the next year when a pick-up truck and horse trailer pulled into the driveway in a well-choreographed Santa delivery.

I stepped outside, pulling on a heavy coat against the north Georgia wind, and saw our old friend, Rusty, unloading a horse. It was a sight to behold; a beautiful, glistening black stallion, snorting and pawing the ground, shaking his long black mane. His nostrils flared, sending plumes of steam into the frigid air. Needless to say, I cried with joy. He had outdone me again.

Over the years, sprinkled between these great Christmases like bright confetti, were little special gifts, jewels if you will, making each Christmas unique. There were snowy Christmases in Colorado and steamy ones in Miami. There were Christmases when we entertained nursing home patients and Christmases when we smothered our children with mountains of gifts. But always there was love, excitement, the shared joy of giving and receiving.

Then the unthinkable happened. On a rainy November night in Georgia, cold and dark, there was a horrible car accident, and my life changed in the twinkling of a headlight. My husband, my partner, my best friend was gone. It was two weeks before Thanksgiving, and unwrapped gifts sat hidden in closets and car trunks, waiting. Now, they mocked me, seeming to say, “So what?”

That Christmas was certainly no jewel; at least it didn’t seem so at the time. Looking back, perhaps it was a lump of coal, waiting to be pressed and polished and reassessed.

I dreaded every Christmas that followed, longing for the ‘good old days.’ With my husband gone, what was the point? No one to cook great meals for, no one to compete with in the gift-giving arena, no fabulous gifts to look forward to. Ho hum, ordinary discount store bath products or mediocre clothes. Sure, friends and family tried their best, but no one’s traditions could match (or even come close) to the glittering Christmases of the past. Everything paled in comparison.

Last year was different. Last year, I learned a lesson. I will share it with you. Each Christmas is a jewel to add to your Life Necklace. Some are diamonds; some are diamonds in the rough (like the lump of coal I received in 1997). Each one has value and should be cherished accordingly.

Christmas may be a luscious red ruby because you are in love. One year may be a rich green emerald because you have money to spend on gifts. Another year may be a multi- faceted opal, the result of mixed blessings.

And then there are the creamy white pearls. This year was a pearl for me to add to my Christmas necklace. Pearls mean wisdom, and I sure learned a good lesson this year. Facing the inevitable holiday depression, I shopped as required, wrapped as duty called and planned some holiday treats to prepare – not with any particular enthusiasm, but because as a mother, grandmother, and mother-in-law, it was a role I was required to play.

Christmas Eve loomed ahead. My daughter wanted me to come to her house. My best friend wanted me to attend an open house at her parents’. Another close friend wanted me to be with her and her family for a traditional Christmas gathering at her home.

I opted for seeing my daughter on Christmas morning and agreed to visit the homes of both friends, against my better judgment and against my natural longing to curl up on the sofa and hibernate until it was all over.

Christmas Eve arrived, and I dressed in a new fleece outfit with holiday decorations, determined to make the best of it. My grandsons opened their gifts from me, and it was great to see their smiles and excitement over skateboards and games. My spirits began to lift.

They departed, and I loaded my car with goodies and set off for the first of my two stops. Christmas carols (what else?) pulsed from the car radio; stars twinkled in a cold black sky; and I found myself singing along to “Silent Night.” Then a pearl of wisdom dropped onto my necklace.

How lucky could one person be? I had grandsons who adored me and loved the gifts I was able to buy them. I had friends who competed for my attention and really wanted me to be with them on Christmas Eve. Did the gifts I would or would not receive even matter?

No, they did not. And therein lies the pearl. Or the ruby. Or the emerald.

Each Christmas is a unique and special gem. Regardless of inflation, recession, or dumb monetary policy. I cannot wait to see what will be added to my lengthening chain of Christmas Jewelry this year. How about you?