The gift of joy

We are running out of room in our “inn” this holiday season. Forget an Advent calendar counting down the days to Christmas — it seems every day there is a new gift delivered, sometimes even two. 

I have been calculating and coordinating where to put all our December calves. I only have five open domes left and 10 animals still to calve this month. Hopefully, there will be a few bull calves coming in this group or we will have to find room in an open pen in the back of the old barn. This is not an ideal place but one that can house our special gifts. Sounds like a familiar story of long ago.

The Christmas season has been a time of calculating and coordinating — squeezing in holiday concerts, baking holiday treats, finding the “perfect” gift and still managing the daily routine on the farm. Some years, I would stress winning the battle, and other years, I would wave a white flag as I let go of the stress. Yet, the holiday season always seemed to work out just fine regardless of what I did or did not do.

When the kids were younger, we would rack our brains trying to discover the “perfect” gift for each child’s interest and personality. One year, the boys received their own Red Rider BB guns. The squeals of joy still echo in my heart as they ripped off the wrapping paper, anticipating their greatest wish. It was the “perfect” gift that lasted for a few years, then the gift faded with childhood. The guns stood silent, bumping around the gun rack as bigger guns captured their attention. The “perfect” gift has been abandoned until this past Thanksgiving, when Jonathon rediscovered his gift from long ago. His son was now old enough to squeal with delight as they restored the gun with a fresh cleaning and a rub down of gun oil. It was the “perfect” gift of joy for a little boy at Christmas time.

I thought we had done pretty well over the years in our search for the best Christmas presents. That is, until Austin and Joelle were talking about their childhood Christmas gifts. Austin said he couldn’t recall a single gift he received as a kid. He remembered the experiences shared, like ice fishing with Mark and his godfather, or his first airplane flight to Texas over break to visit my parents. He didn’t remember the red travel backpack he received just for that trip. Looks like I need to pull out his photo album to jog his memories of the gifts he received. It wasn’t like he didn’t receive any.

In the homily in church this past week, Rev. Sauer focused on the anticipation of joy to be found in his childhood Christmas gifts. Like Austin, he couldn’t recall exactly what presents he opened, but he did remember feeling short-changed. He received everything he wanted but struggled to find the joy of Christmas. That set me to thinking — and missing a chunk of his sermon.

What is the “perfect” gift? Where does joy come from? Simple questions, yet complex answers. I can only speak for myself, but here is what’s rolling around in my head. The “perfect” gift is given out of love. The gift can be anything. It can be a homemade decoration from innocent little hands. It can be a treasured moment on an ordinary day. It can be a few simple words or a well-timed hug. It can be in the cry of a newborn baby or the tears of wisdom trickling down your cheek at the discovery of a simple truth.

It is fun to unwrap a gift, anticipating what someone special wants to share with you. But as we’ve gotten older, it’s not about the physical gift. The real gift is time. Time to be together. Time to share laughter and hugs. Time to be present in each other’s lives.

Now that our kids are all adults and living in different states, we treasure our time together over the holiday season. That’s not to say we still don’t throw a present under the tree for our version of the “White Elephant” game. It has to be something to eat or drink from your local area. My present always seems to contain Red Head Creamery cheese, Thielen Meats country sausage and a bottle of spirits. I wouldn’t mind getting that one back, but I’m always curious to see what’s coming from Kansas or Wisconsin, too. There isn’t a bad present in the bunch.

What would be my “perfect” Christmas present? What would bring me joy? The gift of words. I treasure words. They are a gift that I can unwrap any day I need to hear the whisper of love to lighten my path or ease my heart. I hear the words in the voice of loved ones long gone. I hear the love, the respect earned and the parent’s pride as my dad “introduced” his daughter to his friends. They were the last words I heard him say. A perfect gift.

As Mary treasured the angel’s words and the kings’ gifts, may we also find joy in receiving the perfect gift of love.

As their four children pursue dairy careers off the family farm, Natalie and Mark Schmitt started an adventure of milking registered Holsteins just because they like good cows on their farm north of Rice, Minnesota.