Stories

My parents used to read aloud to my brother and me when we were little. Especially in the days that we didn't have electricity, but it is an activity that stands out to me in my memory as something we did a lot. Two of the series that we seemed to read again and again were The Chronicles of Narnia and The Little House on the Prairie, both of which I am so excited to read to our child(ren).

Shawn's been recently reading Deep Economy by Bill McKibben, a book that urges people to simplify and points out that money does not make us happier (once all our needs are met). He cited an example of giving a stuffed animal to a young Chinese girl and her incredible joy at his gift. This stuffed animal became a very dear and cherished possession. He said that he could have given it to his daughter, but given the number of toys she already had, it wouldn't make much a difference to her.

I thought back to the stories of Laura Ingalls from the Little House books. Christmas time was so special--they might receive an orange, perhaps, or the special doll that they would love for the rest of their childhood. It seems like in our generation of excess, we have ceased to appreciate anything on that scale. In the piles and piles of stuff that we buy, wrap, open and cast aside to open the next disposible trinket, we forget what is so special about this time of year--something that might be different for me as it is for you, but special nonetheless.

Thinking back to my own childhood, my happiest memories are from when we were camped out in the living room, fire roaring, lanterns lit, reading books from a simpler time. For future Christmases in our family, I hope we remember to always appreciate the things that really matter and to share that with Timothy and any future children.