A Gift | Chapter 3, Joy

“I am a hunter of beauty and I move slow and I keep the eyes wide, every fiber of every muscle sensing all wonder and this is the thrill of the hunt and I could be an expert on the life full, the beauty meat that lurks in every moment. I hunger to taste life. God.”

– Ann Voskamp

When I was little, I could hardly wait for Christmas, the anticipation of tearing open wrapping paper and stacking my new gifts into a tall tower. We usually had three family gathering which meant three opportunities to get more things, carrying them home in bags and boxes, eager to find new homes for them in my room.

The high of opening presents would slowly wear off, and I’d end up picking an old book to read, playing with the toys I’d had for years. But every year, come December 24th , I’d be waiting, my fingers itching to pull my new things close to me.

Over time, as I’ve grown up, I anticipate the holiday gatherings with just as much excitement and wonder, but, instead of gifts, I eagerly wait for family games around the kitchen table, the traditional Christmas Eve movie night, making pannekoeken on Christmas morning with my mom.

Now, I still appreciate unwrapping a thoughtful gift, but I’m hungry for the moments of laughter, condensation laying thick on the windows as the kitchen heats up, good conversation over a sink filled with dishes.

With stores boasting new sales and the very best stocking stuffers, it’s a little too easy to get caught up in frenzy of gift buying, trying to fill the Christmas tree with bigger and better surprises than last year.

My first Christmas after graduating from high school, making regular income, I remember throwing things in my Target cart that I knew my family would like, my receipt long and full of promise. Excited to finally have more than a few dollars to spend per-person, I focused more on the amount each gift cost than really thinking of what would mean the most. And it showed. Out of all the Christmases, I remember everyone saying “thank you” and being genuinely grateful, but not a single person used their gift that year (the DVDs I bought my dad were finally given to the thrift store a few years ago, still in their plastic wrap).

Real gift-giving is about showing up, making time, seeing the beauty in one another. We give gifts when we say, “I love you,” by shoveling someone’s sidewalk, giving grandma a tight hug even though she STILL pinches our cheeks.

Article by, Reeve Klatt | Photography by, Hilary Hyland