When did Christmas become about getting presents rather than giving gifts? When did it change from celebrating Jesus and His gift of Himself for us to anticipating all the toys I’m gonna get? Or was it ever really about the former and always about the latter, and I just didn’t realize it until now?

I’m not talking about the commercialization of Christmas here. I’m talking about the selfishness of my heart. I never realized how important getting Christmas presents is to me until recently. It all started with my sister’s announcement that they were broke, so Christmas would be a little low on presents this year. While that announcement alone wasn’t enough to kick my greed into overdrive, it was enough to drive my mind back to Christmases of "yore", when gifts were plentiful and there was no room under the tree for Baby Jesus (he belonged in the nativity scene on the table, anyway).

Then came the hints that our department was foregoing giving us a Christmas bonus this year; hints dropped ever so surreptitiously by my supervisors, who then fell mysteriously silent and evasive on the subject as days went by. I, like every other unwise, overeager employee, had counted my bonus dollars before they were given and had plans for each and every one of them. They were good plans, to be sure. An external hard-drive to back up my laptop (it is over 2 years old now, after all), new good quality (ie expensive) shoes — which are desperately needed at the moment — and accessories for my iPod. I tried not to worry too much; or think too much about the planned purchases now in jeopardy. But as the days turned into weeks and we got closer to the last day the whole department would be together, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even angry, at the prospect of yet another unmet Christmas expectation.

Especially after I received our company’s idea of a Christmas present.

I realize I ought to be grateful the company gives out gifts at all. Some companies don’t do anything. Yet at the same time I suffer from being spoiled by my fourteeen years years in the entertainment industry, where gifts flowed like honey from an open bee hive; and they weren’t cheap gifts, either. Because everyone in Hollywood knows the way into the good favor of an
executive or a producer is by staying in the good graces of their
assistant. And the best way to do that is to give them really great
Christmas gifts. I got everything from the latest DVD releases to spiffy-cool raincoats to Tiffany parfum and pens. Yes, I was spoiled. I know what good company gifts are. And I did not get one from my company.

As I said, I realize I should be grateful I got anything, but they made it so blasted hard to be so. There was a card, gushing about how much they appreciated all our hard work, blah-blah-blah… and it was obvious they were serious in their gushing. However, their idea of a great, amazing "Thank You for all your hard work over the last year" gift to all their employees was, wait for it……

A pillow.

Yes, folks. My employer gave me a little bean-filled pillow for Christmas. Wow. Who
was the genius who came up with this gem of a gift? I can just hear the gift ideas brainstorming session now: "What shall we give them, uncle Scrooge?" "A lump of coal?" "naw, that’s been done to death…" "Oh, I’ve got an idea! Let’s give them over-sized hacky-sacks and call them pillows!"  Not that I’m bitter about it or anything…..

Perhaps they want me to use that pillow to take a nap every afternoon, instead of working so dang hard. Perhaps I ought to, now that I have a pillow. But what I really want to do is beat all the executives — or at least the one in charge of picking out the gift — over the head with it. Hard. A pillow?! What the…?! What in the world were you thinking??

Now, I could understand if we were on the verge of bankruptcy or in otherwise serious financial trouble. But the fact is, our executives just banked millions of dollars in stock sales. They couldn’t spare at least one of those millions to shower on us, their faithful, hard-working employees?

It was in the middle of my internal rant after picking up my gift that I realized just how greedy my little heart is. All this anger over a stupid pillow, all this frustration over unmet expectations, all this anxiety over whether or not the bonus was coming — and where’s Jesus in all this? Who’s birthday is it, anyway? Mine? —Nope. Then why was I expecting to be the star of the day and the recipient of all the really cool presents?

I had to laugh at myself, at my own folly. I must look pretty ridiculous to God, ranting away over something as insignificant as a little bean pillow. Especially when so many in the world don’t even have a place to lay their head. Or worrying if I’ll get to buy an expensive pair of shoes when most of the world is too poor to even own one pair of cheap rubber flip flops. How many people went to sleep hungry tonight? How many more will die of starvation tomorrow? How many don’t even know, have never heard, the real reason for celebrating Christmas?

When did I get so greedy? When did I start thinking of Christmas as a celebration of me, rather than a celebration of Jesus? When did I get so wrapped up in getting that I forgot to look around and thank God for all I’ve already been given? A couple weeks ago during his sermon, Jeff told us about something his daughter said. They were busy decorating up the house, tinsel and garland and ornaments everywhere, when his little girl looked around and asked, "where Baby Jesus??" Turned out he’d gotten lost among all the stuff and ended up at the other end of the house from where he belonged.

That’s what happened in my heart. Jesus got lost in all my own Christmas "stuff". It took getting smacked in the face with my own greed, wrapped up in bean-filled pillow, for me to realize that.

Dear Jesus, forgive me! Let me put You back in the center of the celebration, where You belong.

PS — The bonus came through at the eleventh hour. It’s half what it was last year, but who’s counting anymore, right? Yeah, maybe I need to smack myself in the face with the pillow again…