By Krista Ralston Oakes

One of my favorite childhood Christmas memories started out as a moment of panic.

It occurred to me one day that Christmas was fast-approaching, and I had not yet mailed my letter to Santa Claus. I was only about six years old at the time, but I deduced that it was too late for postal service to arrive at the North Pole in time for Santa and his elves to plan and produce even the smallest wish list of gifts. I sat in my bedroom and began to sob.

My father walked past my door and noticed my distress. As I explained the situation, he offered a solution that seemed incredible at a time when overnight mail, e-mail, and fax machines were unheard of. Dad suggested that I compose my letter, and he would take it to his office, where it could be telegraphed to the North Pole. I marveled at the suggestion of this miraculous technology, and feeling greatly relieved, I prepared a short letter. The next day, Dad returned from work and presented me with a carbon copy of the
“telegraphed” version of my letter. I was elated, and my classmates were astonished when I later brought the copy to my school for show-and-tell.

I have no recollection of the gifts that I requested or received that year, but I have always remembered my father’s creativity and kindness in response to my despair. It was this demonstration of love – not the gifts – that created such a lasting and dear Christmas memory.

Since then, I have enjoyed other memorable Christmases. While I have been the grateful recipient of many gifts of various shapes, sizes, and prices, the best of Christmases past have demonstrated generosity of the heart, not the wallet.

My husband and I started an annual tradition during our first Christmas as a married couple. Partially motivated by our newlywed budget, we proposed giving each other at least one gift that cannot be purchased. This gift is always the most precious, because it requires the most thought and effort.

For example, one year my husband considered the state of our master bedroom. Since the master bedroom never saw visitors, it was always the last room to be tidied. The accumulated neglect of our designated “retreat area” was a constant thorn in my side, and my husband knew that I would appreciate a solution. That Christmas he presented me with a one-year commitment to spend each Saturday cleaning our master bedroom and bathroom – by himself. My job was to enjoy a relaxing bubble bath in my newly cleaned tub after he finished all the work.

In return, one year I considered the importance of expressing appreciation to my husband.
I kept a daily journal of “today I love you because…” entries, noting specific things that I loved, admired, and appreciated about him that day. I started it one month before Christmas, and then after presenting him with a month’s worth of entries, I continued to add to it throughout the following year.

Among the accumulated ornaments and decorations that adorn our Christmas tree, my husband and I also hang a tiny white stocking to represent the gifts that we should give to the One whose birth we are celebrating. By focusing on the true Honoree of the holiday, we shift the emphasis away from shopping and entertaining, and create lasting memories of Christmas service.

My favorite group celebrations of Christmas have centered on service, creating memories that no lavish holiday party could rival. One was the year some musicians in our ward organized a stage reproduction of a 1940’s radio broadcast, complete with a big band, singers, comedy, and talk shows. They invited my husband and me to participate, and we took the program on tour to local nursing homes and retirement communities during the Christmas season. I will always remember the appreciation in the faces of the elderly audience as they relived nostalgic times.

Another tradition began during a difficult year among friends. Together we determined to spend Christmas focusing outward. On Christmas Day we visited a local charity home for families of pediatric hospital patients. We went to several nursing homes where people waited for families who never came. We played, sang, and made new friends. This remains an eagerly anticipated annual event in our family.

Gifts from the heart and memories from the heart – these are at the heart of a Christ-centered Christmas, and they leave lasting, loving impressions in our hearts.

– Krista Ralston Oakes is the author of Fertile in our Faith: Infertility, Pregnancy Loss, Adoption, and Filling the Measure of our Creation (Millennial Press). She lives in Plano, Texas, with her husband, Jared, and children, Jacob and Emma.