Christmas Gifts

Let me start by saying that I know the true meaning of Christmas and that's not what this is about. This is about the ugliness that's in my heart and some of the heartache that never goes away.

I did something this week that I've never done. I ordered my Christmas present from my husband. I'm getting a new laptop for school. Several years ago, I said I wanted my next laptop to be a Mac. That's what I got.

Don't get me wrong, it's exciting to have a new laptop coming for school. I'm thankful we could make that investment to take me through school.

It's exciting, but not fun. It's a functional gift. A gift that I get cause it is so expensive that we can't justify buying it otherwise.

But here is a confession straight from my heart. My biggest love language is receiving and giving gifts.

I've explained this before. Years and years and years of not receiving gifts or having them taken away from me makes it easier to understand this.

As kids, we were promised so much only to find their was nothing for us on Christmas day. When there was, it was a mental game for my parents. It was a way for them taunt us by having us unwrap rocks or dirty clothes or toilet paper.

When I got older and was babysitting, I bought socks and clothes and toys for my brothers. One set of grandparents gave us money, which was always handed over to the parents. The other grandparents always gave a gift, which was aways a game for my dad. My grandma loves to jack with my dad who was a horrible racist. So the Mexican themed car was burned and my black baby doll was left in my bed stabbed with a knife.

It's not hard to understand why this is my love language.

My husband knows all of this and has spent 20 years making Christmas special for me and in his own way make up for the years that were so horrible.

About October, he asks for a Christmas list. He does an awesome job of surprising me and leaving no space under the tree.

After I placed the order, it hit me. This was it. No surprise. No piles of gifts to open. And, I was sad.

I know. I shouldn't be. I should be happy. But I'm sad.

There's so much that makes this season hard. Now when we spend Christmas day completely alone, there won't even be excitement surrounding gifts.

Ugh!

I told you. It's the ugly selfishness of my heart. It's the heartache of a painful childhood that can't be shaken over 30 years later.

I'm thankful that the birth of my savior is ultimately the reason for celebration. I hope when the ugly disappointment threatens to set in my heart that day, I'll know that I've already received the greatest gift of all.