| The £100 Christmas
It was with some trepidation that I read my daughter's copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. As we all know, at the end of the story, Whoville celebrates Christmas without their presents and trees. But Dr. Seuss's message went deeper for me. The more we progressed on our £100-campaign, the more we came to understand why people were responding. It wasn't because we wanted a simpler Christmas, it was because we wanted a happier and more festive one. Christmas had become an endurance test. Instead of being a time of peace, it was all hustle and bustle. The people we talked to wanted more out of Christmas: more music, companionship, contemplation, time outdoors and love. They realised that to get it, they needed less of some other things: not so many presents, less parties and less stress. There's nothing magic about £100. And, obviously, big families may decide to spend more. But the £100 goal works well as a check, a way of saying that your commitment to a better Christmas goes beyond merely telling yourself that this year will be different. After all, there is no ideal Christmas, only the Christmas you decide to make as a reflection of your values, desires, affections and traditions. The ideal Christmas If people worry about a transformed Christmas, it's often because they don't know what to expect. So when you talk with relatives, make sure you offer suggestions about new kinds of gifts - everyone wants to give something. Tell grandparents that you'll record them reading a story so your child will be able to hear them read it over and over; urge uncles and aunts to give a trip to the museum instead of a robotic dinosaur. Don't be surprised if it takes a few years to readjust. Many families begin by drawing names each Christmas so that everyone has only one present to buy for the next year. In most of the families I've talked with, though, people have come to love making some of their presents. No one expects you to build a gorgeous bookshelf or knit an evening dress. My mother makes calendars for the family, featuring a photo she's taken each month. And then there's my favourite present that my wife always gives me. She draws a picture on a circle of white paper and has it turned into a plastic plate. All year I look forward to it, wondering which small event of our lives will 'make the plate'. Our daughter's godmother and her daughters made an alphabet book one year, twisting their bodies into the shape of each letter and then taking photographs. One year my mother wrote out all my grandmother's favourite recipes in a book. You can make a card game of family trivia, or pass along a piece of jewellery that has some important connection - small children will take quite seriously the idea that Granny wore this brooch at her wedding, or Granddad wore these cufflinks. Instead of buying new ornaments for the tree, you can use old toys as decorations, each one bringing back memories, or even make your own. Gifts of time are even better: a voucher for a monthly massage, a voucher for a trip to the zoo, a walk in the woods, a game of Scrabble on demand, baby-sitting, house-painting, book-reading - what you're really offering is your time. The point is not to stop giving; the point is to give things that matter: time, attention, memories and playfulness. People always complain that Christmas starts too soon - that the tinsel is up in the shops right after Halloween and the carols gurgle over the loudspeakers in every aisle. I think a bigger problem is that Christmas doesn't last long enough. One reason we all find Christmas so intense is the sudden sense of anticlimax that can seize you once it's all over. It doesn't need to be that way - you don't have to focus on the presents as the main focus of the whole season. The point is to emerge from Christmas relaxed, contented and happy. To emerge closer to your family than you were when the season began. To emerge with some real sense that joy has come into your world. |