Christmas Past

By Bob Hansen

I’m certain that God is a better gift giver than I am. Not only did He give his Son, Jesus, to save us from our sins, He also gave many other gifts to the church. Ephesians, chapter four, mentions the gifts of apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers. Other new testament books list other types of gifts.

His gifts are awesome.

Mine? Not so good.

Every Christmas, I am seized by the desire to lavish my wife with gifts. Last year, something in a specialty shop caught my attention. I almost took it to the counter. Only a pang of better judgement saved me from Christmas day embarrassment.

The object was a fat chicken. Made from a gourd, it was colorfully painted and had a silly expression on its face. It didn’t do any do any tricks; it just sat there. I don’t know why I was drawn to it. Something odd about my psychological makeup, I suppose.

After Christmas, I showed my wife the present I almost bought. She said, “It’s a good thing you didn’t.” Apparently she’s not affected by chicken charm.

She was right. The hen had a high clutterability factor.

Gift certificates don’t clutter, but are they personal enough? Does purchasing one show any creativity? A fat, gourd chicken with a goofy grin shows creativity.

Why can’t I come up with something that will wow her—something other than diamonds? One can always buy a combined gift, a single item you will both enjoy. Maybe a jewel-studded leaf blower. Or, a silly chicken with a gem in its mouth.

There’s always the gift wish list. So predictable. “Oh,” she will say, “I wonder what this is.” She knows, of course, since she wrote the list. She wouldn’t have a clue what her gift was if it was a fashionable plump hen.

I, like all men, constantly listen for gift clues. Things like: “I’d really like to eat at such-and-such restaurant (very expensive) someday.” Or, “I think we’ll have chicken tonight.” I’m certain I catch every clue she gives. She just doesn’t hint often enough.

Candles are winners. They aren’t considered clutter since they self-eliminate. When used as intended, they disappear. Thus, they can be purchased year after year. Wouldn’t it be great if other knick-knacks had this self-destroying feature? If they all, in some way, disintegrate around Thanksgiving, the gift-giving problem would be solved.

Next year I will return to that gift shop. If I find the maker forgot to dry the gourd before transforming it into a pleasant feathered creature, I will buy that fat, self-spoiling chicken. Despite what my wife says, I know she’ll love it.

Bob Hansen writes from Chehalils, Washington. Bhansen6@juno.com