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I love Christmas, but it’s not like I had another choice. Christmas in the Hannon house growing up was both magical and extravagant. But of all the things that made Christmas great, I’d be lying if I said one thing didn’t stand out above the rest. I’m sure you can guess it… Presents! (What’d you think I was going to say? Jesus?) Each Christmas morning my brother, sister, and I would sit at the top of the stairs while my dad went down to make sure Santa had arrived the night before. Once confirmed we would scurry down the stairs to what seemed like a mountain of glorious presents. While we never wanted for the basics as a child, neither did we always have the extras—that is, of course, on this one morning. On Christmas 
morning you would never have guessed we lacked anything. We’d open up the latest video game system or fad toy. We’d race around new RC cars or show off our new digital watches. Christmas was the best, and Santa was the man! But after opening all the presents from Santa there was always three packages remaining. Roughly wrapped and set aside, the tags on each read:
To Shawn, Scott, or Shavonne.
Love Dad.
Now all that magic and extravagance I mentioned before, there was none of that here. Just a simply package whose contents were even less impressive. They were always socks. Now, let’s review. Every Christmas we’d race down the stairs to piles of presents, next to a plate of cookie crumbs and a half-empty glass of milk (or half-full, you pick). Santa brought us the latest and greatest toy and spared no expense, and after we opened all of the presents my dad would give us socks. Really, Dad? Really?
Christmas morning has a different look in the Hannon house these days. Instead of sitting at the top of the stairs and waiting, now it’s my job to go down first and make sure Santa came. He usually does, and as much as it bothers my wife, he still comes way too graciously. But after everyone opens up all his presents this Christmas, there will be a few extra packages roughly wrapped and lying under the tree. There will still be socks, and now I’ll be the dad who follows Santa’s act.
And that’s okay. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Santa can have all the credit for the Disney princesses and coloring books. He can take all the gratitude and praise, because Christmas giving, in the end, isn’t about credit, anyways. It’s about a more true form of giving—the kind of giving that doesn’t worry about what it receives in return. For years my parents let their children believe a guy in a red suit gave them their every desire while they wrapped socks. Now I know why. They didn’t give on Christmas for the thank you, for the fanfare, or for what they’d receive in return. They gave because it brought their children joy.
And they, like me, learned that from their father; or should I say our Father. There is one thing that stands out about Christmas above the rest and it is still a present, but it is also Jesus. God gave Jesus that first Christmas, not for the thank you, for the fanfare, or for what he’d hoped to receive in return. God gave Jesus because he knew Jesus would bring his children joy; because he knew Jesus was the gift we really needed; because he knew Jesus would bring his children life.
As Christmas morning approaches, may we all remember that lesson. May we all continue to give. And as we do, may we never forget why we do it—not for what we receive, but for the joy of those who receive.
