Mom nurtured this practice when we were young by inventing doable chores, helping us complete them, then paying us. She took us to the local drugstore where small gifts could be purchased for small amounts of money. With eight people to buy for, inexpensive gifts were essential.

Calculating the math yields the startling truth that by the time Santa arrived, more than 50 gifts resided under the tree. True, some were small enough to get lost in the folds of the flannel tree skirt. But there they were, proof that at least once a year, we seven siblings could unite to earn money, shop, wrap and squirrel under the tree, tangible evidence that beyond the day-to-day of living with each other and all the friction that could bring, we still cared enough to give gifts to each other.

The decision of what to buy and how much to spend on each person evolved as we children matured into siblings who generally got along with each other but sometimes did not. Mom spent a lot of energy teaching us that gift-giving should be unconditional, no strings attached, no expectations to first be met — just love and acceptance. Sometimes, we listened; sometimes, we did not.

One year, in particular, my older sister and I were at odds. Unconditional love met teenaged angst. “Why should I give her a gift?” I grumbled.

“Why shouldn’t you?” my mother shot back. “A week from now you’ll be friends again, she’ll still be your sister and you’ll regret it. And…she already put a gift for you under the tree.”  Mom’s admonition sunk deeply, right next to the truth she’d instilled long ago that we don’t give gifts to get gifts; we give gifts to show our love. Precisely what my sister had done.

“Yeah, but… but….”

I stopped arguing because her words finally sunk in. And for a moment I caught a glimpse of pure love — and how far from it I was. I “saw” the difference between giving with conditions attached, and the child’s pure, unconditional Christmas gift. 

In her solid refusal to accept the notion that gifts were given only when the recipient is worthy, our mother taught the meaning of Christmas. As the Christ child story goes, he came to earth when the people did not seem worthy of the gift he brought. He came when wars raged, people rebelled and governments demanded obedience and taxes. He came when people were world weary, religious groups were at deathly odds, governments and kingdoms sought to outmaneuver each other and most folks were harassed, marginalized or bullied. But he came anyway.

As the story goes, he came to a quiet, obscure setting where a weary mother and wondering father delivered him, carefully shared him with the quiet few who sought him, then secretly left via an angel-directed route to protect him from forces that already wanted him dead.

No, the world was not worthy of the gift. But it was given anyway.

His world back then looks uncomfortably like our world today. It’s hard to believe this world is worthy of the gift. But it’s still given because it never was meant to come only when people were worthy of it. The gift’s purpose was to heal the unworthy, not reward the worthy. Which makes recipients of us all.

We’ll know we’ve received when we ourselves become givers of the gift of unconditional love, acceptance and understanding — evidence that peace on earth and goodwill to all really is possible even to an unworthy world.