Simple Gifts
Friday, December 25th, 2009by Suzanne Ecklund
My grandparents were rich and I told my playmates as much. (My parents would have frowned upon my childhood stint as a braggart so I shared this information as a secret.) The two-hour journey over the river and through the woods—literally—was always filled with wide-eyed anticipation.
“Are we there yet?”
When we saw Clark’s gas station on the right, we knew we were home free. A right turn here, followed by a 10-minute slither down the winding, wooded road and then finally, finally, grandmother’s house.
Her home was huge. Too many bedrooms to count and how many bathrooms? And food—always food. And cookies!
Out the back yard past the hunting dogs (and maybe Snookie, the cat) were the banks of the Allegheny River. The river was a year-round playground that never tired of us nor we of it.
Down in this river valley were grandparents and aunts and uncles. (both the great kind and the plain kind) And when children showed up, they were celebrated: showered with gifts and whisked off on wonderful adventures and every visit was fun.
When I returned to my grandparents’ house as an adult, I realized that their house, though lovely, was modest. And the bedrooms were few enough to count.
And no one was rich.
But my grandmother had a knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. She would transform a K-Mart sticker book into a gilded scroll and make a blueberry slushee run (back out to Clark’s) a red carpet event. She made you feel as though every day that she had with you was her very best day.
I said “good-bye” to my grandmother this year.
Hers is a legacy of abundance.

I have been on my own spiritual journey regarding abundance: trying to replace monetary gifts with gifts of the self. My grandmother managed to make every day burst at the seams with the gift of her heart.
And it is in this spirit that I am abstaining from consumption this year—and have asked those in my life do the same.
But I am celebrating!
I am making homemade cards featuring this photo of my grandmother as a young girl—along with the story of her abundant legacy.
I’m sorry that I lied to my playmates. But mine was an innocent enough mistake: gifts of the heart can leave one feeling rich.
I pray that the simple gifts of the season fill your pockets with gold.
May your Christmas be true.