Finding Peace: During the Christmas Rush

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 )