Recently my Bible study leader asked everyone “What was your favorite Christmas present ever?” I was ready with my answer: when I was thirteen my Dad gave me a BB gun for Christmas. No, it was not the famous “Red Ryder” BB gun, but it was a “Daisy” replica of an 1873 “Winchester lever action” rifle. I loved that thing; I still have it. I must have put 1000 BBs through that rifle.

The other men asked me if I had killed anything with it. I had to confess I did not point my gun at any living thing until I killed a bullfrog for my Dad because he wanted to try frogs legs. Gross, right? My poor Grandmother was a trooper. She fried them up like fried chicken and my dad ate them. However, I’m not a killer. I just shot empty soda cans, paper targets, and an occasional model ship that I sank in my Granddad’s cow pond.

I thought that the Christmas gift question was very interesting. It made me curious to find out what my Dad’s answer to that question would be. So, when I went home to visit my folks over Christmas I asked him: “What was your favorite Christmas present?” I was kind of touched by his answer. But first, a little background on my Dad’s upbringing might be in order.

My Dad was one of 12 kids born into a sharecroppers family in Southern Virginia. He had nine sisters and 2 brothers, the eldest of which, Uncle Willie, was born blind. Dad was literally born in a log cabin which still stands today, although the house into which they moved in more prosperous times has burned to the ground.

Dad told me that all he remembers about Christmas when he was growing up is that all the kids got a new pair of shoes. He said he was grateful for them too because, by Christmas, he was stuffing pasteboard into the old shoes to cover the holes in the soles.

He said he remembers sometimes the boys would get a single shot cap gun. “We had to have a cap gun to play Lone Ranger” he said. He also remembered that they’d have a Christmas tree every year that they would decorate with homemade ornaments.

For years and years they would also receive a little gift from Santa Claus: at first very small items –later a little nicer– but always from Santa Claus. After Willie died, Dad found out that Willie had been “Santa Claus” all those years.

Uncle Willie had moved from the family home in Ridgeway to Charlottesville, Virginia to work for Industries of the Blind. He met his wife there, and he worked there until he retired. My Dad really loved and admired Uncle Willie: he had a big heart, a great sense of humor, and a positive outlook on life. After retirement, ‘Santa Claus” kind of retired too. Willie’s income was severely curtailed and he couldn’t really afford to keep being Santa.

So my Dad’s answer to the question “What was your favorite Christmas gift?” surprised me. He said that it was not a gift that he had received that was his favorite, it was a gift that he gave. In fact, it was multiple gifts that he gave.

He mentioned two gifts specifically. One year he gave my Mom a piano. She said she always wanted a nice one and he remembers how she reacted when he gave it to her. I remember when they brought it in: I must have been 5 years old. My Mom loved that piano. She took lessons for years and played that piano until she could no longer play due to arthritis.

The second Christmas gift he mentioned involved me. It was when he paid for my flight to come home from Boston. After College I had moved to Boston, and as a recent college graduate living in an expensive city, I was broke. I had told the family I would not be coming home. So no one knew I was coming, and it was a total surprise to everyone: Dad had pulled it off. It was a white Christmas too: pretty rare in North Carolina.

It is a lot of fun getting Christmas presents, but giving a great present can be even more fun, when it is given with love.

And isn’t giving a great gift with love what Christmas is all about?