PALESTINE — Question: The last few years have been financially hard for my husband and me. Like most of the U.S., we struggled through the recession and are still trying to get back on our feet financially. We have two children. This Christmas we weren’t able to do as much for our kids as previous years. Don’t get me wrong. We bought them Christmas presents, but it wasn’t near the spread of previous years. Even though we’ve done the best that we can do, I still feel guilty over not being able to do more. How do I shake the guilt?



Answer: When I was growing up, we spent five especially hard years financially in a small country parsonage in north Arkansas. My parents agreed to pastor the old church in the mid-’70s, even though they knew it didn’t even have indoor plumbing. Thankfully, the house we lived in did have plumbing, but no air conditioning and insufficient heating. Aside from a gas heater in the bathroom, the only heat the parsonage had was a giant fireplace in the living room that pumped more heat up the chimney than into the house. Due to the fact that there were some cracked window panes in my and my sister’s bedroom, if it was 30 degrees outside, it was pretty close to thirty degrees in our bedroom. We survived the winter with electric blankets. We endured the hot summers with box fans and open windows.

My sister and I now have all sorts of memories from this parsonage experience. Once, a whole family of possums invaded our house through a hole in the floor. Those guys created quite a stir, especially when one waddled into the middle of the bathroom during my bath time. I gave the word “scream” a whole new meaning. Another summer, a snake slithered under the house and our dog barked his brains out for weeks. Our whole family nearly needed “bark therapy” after that. One year, a man in the church told us we could go into his field and pick all the black eyed peas we wanted. We picked bushels of peas, shelled them, and then had peas almost every evening meal for months because that was nearly all we had to eat. Even though I’m thankful for God’s provision, that experience ended my love affair with black eyed peas. I recall being snowed in that ancient parsonage for nearly two weeks and our family playing all kinds of card games and board games while we sat around the fire and waited out the snow storm.

As for Christmas, it was a materially modest event. We often had one or two gifts from our parents. I remember cutting the tree, erecting it in the living room, hanging the simple lights on the limbs, and topping the whole thing off with hand-strung popcorn. I recall piling in the car and driving to see relatives in Texas. I have no clue what gifts I received from the relatives. But I do remember the journey and the feeling of excitement over getting to see grandparents and aunts and uncles. I recall somebody at church giving me a book of lifesavers one year. I was thrilled over that small pleasure and remember gleefully eating those lifesavers all the way to Texas. I still think of those years any time I eat a spearmint lifesaver.

Interestingly enough, the years before we moved to Arkansas, my parents had always given us a significant spread at Christmastime. In my early childhood, I recall running to the tree on Christmas mornings and being greeted with all kinds of toys any kid would dream of. In many ways, I guess my sister and I were in a similar situation to your kids. We had known what it was like to have prosperous Christmases; and then we were thrown into a time when we had very little. When my parents entered the ministry, they sacrificed a good livelihood, and our whole family was thrown into poverty.

However, the memories from those poverty years are some of the richest memories that I recall. Looking back, I wouldn’t trade those scraggly cedar Christmas trees with their strands of popcorn for priciest of perfect firs, loaded with sophisticated ornaments. I wouldn’t trade the few inexpensive gifts my parents gave me for the best toys that were on the market. I wouldn’t trade that cold, run-down old parsonage for the finest brick house. We had more than material possessions. We had love. We made unique memories in a difficult situation. And those memories are what I cling to, not what was under our Christmas tree.

I challenge you to use this season of financial strain to begin new family traditions, purposefully create lasting memories, and give your children the best gift a parent can give: unconditional love, quality time, an understanding heart, and listening ears. When you realize that these gifts are what your children want, even more than the latest toys or clothing, your guilt will dissolve. The highlight of Christmas really shouldn’t be about the material things we give our kids; it should be about the gift of Christ and the joy of creating positive, loving memories. In the face of the material things that break, fade, and are soon forgotten, such family memories, purposefully spun like golden tapestry, will grow more valuable with each passing year.

I’m in no way opposed to giving material gifts to children. My teenagers have their share of Christmas gifts. But in my mind the best gifts our family will give each other will be the time we spend cooking Christmas dinner together, the board games we’ll play, and the family movie we’ll enjoy. I pray that the main things your kids and mine will remember from their childhoods are the things I remember: the togetherness of a family and the love of parents who did their best.

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The author of 53 books, Debra White Smith is the featured relationship specialist on the Fox News Radio Show, “Plain Jane Wisdom.” She and her husband, Daniel, co-pastor Palestine Church of the Nazarene. For more information, visit www.debrawhitesmith.com.

Got a problem? E-mail Debra at askdebra@live.com