Christmastime is here again. I know that is not news to anyone. We’ve been bombarded with Christmas sales, Christmas decorations, and all of the ho ho ho we can stomach since before Halloween. You would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not know Christmastime is here again.

I guess I could be accused of some grinch-like tendencies this year. I’ve not had much Christmas cheer this year. I could blame part of it on the insane semester that just ended. School drained me of all energies or motivation that I normally summon up to decorate the living room, put up a tree, and send out Christmas cards. I didn’t do any of those things. I haven’t put much effort into shopping around for Christmas presents. I went one evening and bought presents for only those people closest to me. I’m sorry if you are my great aunt once removed’s first husband’s oldest daughter. You won’t be getting anything from me this year. Don’t feel too badly, though. I barely bought my kids Christmas presents.

The number of gifts my kids received wasn’t due to the lack of energy and motivation that prevented me from doing all of the dutiful, traditional things I opted out of this year, though. That was because of the sick feeling I got in my stomach every time I went to Walmart. It was the way my stomach turned over when the kids saw a 30 second commercial and were suddenly aware of their great need for some dinky toy they had never heard of before and weren’t sure what it was. I’m kind of sick of it all. I kind of just planned on skipping the decorations and the presents, and just focus on the family togetherness.

Therein lies a problem. Chris has to work on Christmas Eve AND Christmas Day. Not much togetherness when one is punching the clock. It stinks when he has to work on holidays. It happens more often than not. So, yesterday, we let the kids have their Christmas gifts, so that Chris could be there to play with them. The big kids loved their new video game system, and they each got a game for it. That’s all. There were no stocking stuffers. There were no B level gifts. You know, the filler things to go along with the gift they were really hoping for. You know what else? There were no toys discarded in the corner that they forgot they opened. There was no pushing aside of present number one to get to present number two through thirteen. They had one gift. They loved it, and they were happy. Owen got one toy as well, and he’s been playing with it ever since. It works for me.

So, for our Christmas together, that was the extent of it. Tomorrow, Chris will go to work, and the kids and I will make a few stops…dinner with my family at my brother’s house, then a Christmas Eve service at church, and maybe a stop at Chris’ family’s…and Chris will come home after it’s all over with. Tuesday, we’ll go to my aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, while Chris goes to work. I started to feel a little sorry for myself that I didn’t get to have Christmas dinner with my husband and that the kids didn’t get to open their gifts with him on the actual day. I started to, but, then, I had to stop and realize how silly that was…to feel sorry for myself amidst so many blessings.

Christmas with my husband is important to me and all, but, really, whether he has to work or not, he’s coming home at night. If he didn’t, I’d still see him the next day. He may miss Christmas dinner, but we will see each other on Christmas, if only for a few waking  hours. In that few hours together, my Christmas is better than so many families’ Christmases this year. When you carve your turkey or slice your ham…when you open your gifts with your family around you…when you kiss your beloved under the mistletoe…remember that you are blessed. Remember that their are many families celebrating the holiday without their husbands and their fathers…without their wives and mothers…without their sons and daughters.

In Iraq and Afghanistan, men and women are opening packages from home, and wishing they were opening the homemade gift their son made in Sunday School. They are smelling the Christmas card to see if it happens to have a trace of home in it. They are wishing with everything in them that they could hold their families for even a minute.  In homes around our country, wives are going through the motions of Christmas without Daddy. Pasting on a smile when they really just want to skip the holiday. Children are anticipating Christmas Day while saying, “if only Daddy were here” for the hundredth time, breaking their mama’s heart with each “if only”. Husbands are clumsily wrapping the gifts that their wife instructed them to buy, knowing that their efforts, though valiant, are nothing like Mommy does. The flag on the mantel is a blatant reminder that a precious son will never be home for Christmas. You see, whether it’s honor or duty or pride that sends someone to war, those things don’t erase the pain of separation. They don’t make the nights less lonely. They don’t wrap their arms around you on Christmas morning. These are real people. Real moms and dad and sons and daughters. Their absence this Christmas leaves a gaping hole.

As we try not to be overcome with the giving of token gifts or the overburdening of finding the perfect gift for the ones who really matter…and as we keep in mind the Gift that we are supposed to be remembering…let us also remember the gift that we Americans have been given. A gift of service and sacrifice. It’s not trivial. It lasts a lot longer than the Christmas season. It’s a gift wrought with pain and tears in the best of circumstances. Don’t forget these families. Don’t forget this gift. Pray for them.

Remember.