A Calm Christmas: Abundance

This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today, my thoughts center on abundance.

Kempson inspires readers to reflect on this:

What elements of the more commercial side of Christmas do you recall from your childhood? Which aspects did you find exciting (such as a television ad, the idea of stockings bursting with gifts, writing a letter to Santa, etc?) How do you feel about Christmas shopping?

The first element of the commercial side of Christmas that I remember from childhood is the Sears Christmas Catalog Wish Book. I spent hours turning the pages of the toy section of the catalog as if those were the only toys in the world, all waiting on shelves at the North Pole to be delivered by a magical reindeer-pulled sleigh.

That wish book should not have been any different for me, really. My grandmother worked in downtown Waycross, Georgia in the Sears Catalog Department, so my entire childhood was filled with items from Sears – from housewares to clothing and everything in between. I had Winnie the Pooh on every shirt I owned, along with the matching shorts and pants, and I’m pretty sure that Sears short sets were the precursor to Garanimals. Whatever we may have needed, we mostly got it from Sears with the secret inherited family discount that all came down through Grandma Eunice.

Those catalogs weren’t just toy finders, either. They were the small-town Georgia equivalent of the New York City phonebooks used as booster seats for kids at Christmas dinner. It was the one time of the year we actually ate at the formal dining room table, and the catalog boost did the trick.

Shopping was an altogether different matter. My mother loved shopping at Lenox Square in Rich’s in Atlanta, Georgia the day afterThanksgiving. We spent all day there with my aunt, and it started at 6:00 a.m. to get the bargains, starting in Rich’s – before it became Macy’s. In fact, the men would drop off the ladies and the children and go back home to watch football and relax, but they would make a swoop back to the basement door of Rich’s by the candy counter so that the ladies could pack all the treasures in the car without having to lug so many bags. By the time the men returned, the women had fulfilled their part of the day with us cousins. We’d been through the Secret Santa gift shop with our own personal elf to help us shop with the money and list our mothers had made, and we’d also seen the pink pig. We got to go home and play board games when the men came back. It was the dads’ turn to be on kid duty. The women? They kept shopping – without kids in tow.

I’m pretty sure that’s where I developed my lingering distaste for shopping. I don’t like traffic, I abhor frenzied crowds, and I don’t like the “thrill” of the hunt. As an adult, I never have been one to have much more than what I need (except in food and shoes), so the excess of clearance and sale items in the name of saving money never made much sense to me about things we hadn’t needed in the first place. Were we really saving money if the need wasn’t there?

These experiences had a place, though, in shaping the shopper I am today. These days, I ask family members for the digital equivalent of the Sears Christmas Catalog Wish Book in the form of links. My daughter in law is amazing about it, too. She has the lists ready, one per grandchild, and it allows me to shop Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales as we purchase gifts for our grandchildren. We use this principle: Something you want, Something you need, Something to Wear, and Something to read. That’s how we buy for each grandchild (number 7 will be here 2 days after Christmas, if not before).

It’s what we call simple abundance: having the things we need, but leaving plenty enough wishing room.

On a scale of 1-10, I’d rate celebration of abundance by way of Christmas shopping and gifting as a 5 in importance. The ratings of each section will be used to create my Christmas constellation on Friday.

Happy Birthday to My Husband

Here’s a great big Happy Birthday cheer for the love of my life. We share life, we share dreams, and we share challenges. I’m grateful that the good Lord sent him to be my husband. He’s a keeper, and I cherish him. 

We recently visited my brother and father in South Georgia for Christmas, and when we arrived, Ken was outside blowing off the back porch. It looked like the leaves and debris were headed clear down to Florida, as powerful as this blower was. 

My brother left shortly after we arrived for an appointment, and as soon as his car was out of the driveway, Briar picked up the blower and walked out along the path in the back yard to test it out. 

Briar’s blower might be able to blow out one candle on a birthday cake on a full charge, but Ken’s blower could peel twelve layers of pine pollen off a porch screen. Both blowers are battery operated, giving full range of an area without a cord to trip over.

It was one of those moments when I paid attention when I needed to. Rarely do I get a gift as right as I felt this one would be. And I realized even more that I’d nailed it when I’d had to stop by Home Depot and Lowe’s the weekend before his birthday so I could get chalk paint and wood stain for our kitchen table. While I was looking for just the right color wood finish, he said, “I’m going to be in the tools for a minute. I want to see if they have that blower like your brother had.” 

I did my best to give a quizzical look of confusion and vague memory.” Oh, yeah, that blue thing you were playing with out in the back yard?” 

There was already one of those blue things in the back of my car under a blanket even as he looked around for it, so close that I’d had to jump ahead of him with the buggy to load our bags of paint and be sure he couldn’t see his birthday gift awaiting him.

Happy birthday to the man who likes everything clean and always helps make sure it stays that way!