| In the long twilight of the year, the faces of children grow luminous. Rosy with the cold, arabesqued with snowflakes, leaning into the wind or drowsing before the fire, their eyes large, they look and listen, as if they glimpsed the peripheries of miracles or heard a soundless music in the air. From the innocent kingdom of implicit belief to that uncomfortable arena where the implacable mind battles the intractable heart, the faces of children at Christmas are lighted with visions of things to come. What shall we give the children? It seems certain that they will travel roads we never thought of, navigate strange seas, cross unimagined boundaries and glimpse horizons beyond our power to visualize. What can we give them to take along? For the wild shores of Beyond, no toy or bauble will do. It must be something more, constructed of stouter fabric discovered among cluttered aisles and tinseled bargain counters of experience, winnowed from what little we have learned. It must be devised out of responsibility and a profound caring�a homemade present of selfless love. Everything changes but the landscape of the heart. |
| What shall we give the children? |
| .What shall we give the children? Attention, for one day it will be too late. A sense of value, the inalienable place of the individual in the scheme of things, with all that accrues to the individual: self-reliance, courage, conviction, self-respect and respect for others, a sense of humor � laughter leavens life. The meaning of discipline, if we falter at discipline, life will do it for us. The will to work, satisfying work is the lasting joy. The talent for sharing, for it is not so much what we give as what we share. The love of justice, Justice is the bulwark against violence and oppression and the repository of human dignity. The passion for truth, founded on precept and example. Truth is the beginning of every good thing. The power of faith engendered in mutual trust. Life without faith is a dismal dead-end street. The beacon of hope which lights all darkness. The knowledge of being loved beyond demand or reciprocity, praise or blame, for those so loved are never lost. What shall we give the children? The open sky, the brown earth, the leafy tree, the golden sand, the blue water, the stars in their courses and the awareness of these. Birdsong and butterflies, clouds and rainbows�Sunlight moonlight, firelight� A large hand reaching down for a small hand, impromptu praise, an unexpected kiss, a straight answer�The glisten of enthusiasm and a sense of wonder. Long days to be merry in and nights without fear�The memory of a good home. |
| (This may seem familiar to many of you. I sent this essay with the Christmas Gazette in 1991. Now that we are Grandparents, a new generation might be inspired by these thoughts as we were. I originally clipped the essay from the 1976 Christmas issue of McCalls magazine. Debbie) |