The greatest gift

Money is tight here this Christmas season. We’re gearing up for yet another move, the kids’ clothing needs seem to be multiplying like gremlins, and the list of needs is far more pressing than the wants. We’ve scaled back wherever possible to make the pinch a little less pinchy, and honestly feel blessed that we’ve had leeway to do so.

One of the things you won’t find under our tree this year are gifts from Christopher and I to one another. We’ve exchanged sporadically in the past, but in all truth, we entered the season of “if you need it, buy it” long ago, and neither of us is keen on making purchases just to fulfill an obligatory gift exchange. This year, there was an understood moment of “we can’t afford it, sorry.” Neither of us was hurt or offended. It is what it is and that’s o.k.

Actually, it’s better than o.k. Seasons of financial strain always bless me with the reminder that I could be out there making a paycheck. I am, after all, a college graduate with some reasonable skills. I know the current job market is tough, but there’s something out there for a woman willing to do whatever it takes to lift the burden of sole provider off her husband’s shoulders. I could be a substitute teacher. I could work in a daycare center. I could answer phones at a doctor’s office.

I could bring home a little money. We could sock more away in savings. We could take vacations that lasted weeks, not days, and didn’t involve tents or extreme discount codes. We could buy all of the kids’ shoes in one trip, instead of breaking it up over the course of a month. I could buy my shirts at Ann Taylor instead of Old Navy. We could eat out after church every Sunday. We could have better vehicles, furniture, stuff.

We could. But we don’t. Years ago, after the birth of our first child, Christopher gave me the greatest gift any human being has ever offered me: he took on the responsibility for providing for our family so that I might be a stay-at-home mom.

It wasn’t an easy thing for him to offer. Not only did it fly in the face of every expectation he’d ever had of our relationship, it definitely crossed the grain socially. No one we knew stayed home with their children. We had already selected a great day care center. I brought home half of our combined income, and it made zero sense on paper. Add to this that we were nowhere near where we had hoped to be in life. No home of our own. One aging Volvo, one new Saturn whose payment we were obligated to for two more years. Hand-me-down, newlywed decor. Student loan debt.  A savings account balance of … oh, wait. We didn’t have a savings account.

We couldn’t afford it. It didn’t make any sense. We were signing on for financial catastrophe.

He gave me the gift anyhow.

My staying home was an extravagance, a sacrifice on my husband’s behalf. A purposeful, singular carrying of a burden more often these days borne by two. He offered me the chance to stay home with our children and leave behind the career I had worked so hard to attain. I grabbed on to the gift with more gratitude than I had ever imagined I would feel before I looked into my daughter’s eyes.

Thanks to my husband’s gift, I was the one who watched each of our babies accomplish their precious firsts. First time rolling over. First belly laugh. First word. First steps. I never marveled at a tooth that had suddenly appeared– I watched it creep through pink gums over the course of a day. I never bundled a crying infant into a car seat on a frigid morning and drove to “school,” where I handed over a collection of bottles and diapers to the worker who would see him most of his waking hours. I never trusted someone else to respond to my baby’s cries or feed her when she was hungry.

I am blessed, and I know it.

This road has not been easy, or without its critics. But it has been, in my eyes, simply the best way to spend this season of life. Every moment– even the ones where the idea of a job that allows me to escape the needs of a busy family for eight hours a day– has been worth it. For all of us: myself, my children, and even my husband.

So while I will not open a new electronic gadget or sweater or diamond earrings from my husband this Christmas morning, I will continue to be blessed by his generosity and love long after the wrapping paper has been recycled and the ham bone has seasoned our bean soup. Life will have returned to normal and I– I will keep doing the thing I love most. And that’s the greatest gift of all.