What is Your Precious Present?

With holidays upon us, it’s easy to be consumed by the busyness and anxiety of buying gifts, baking cookies, decorating, sending holiday cards and making travel plans to see those we love in the coming weeks. All important activities for sure, but if we are not mindful in how we carry out these activities, what really matters about this time of year can easily be missed as I soon realized this past Thanksgiving.

This year was our turn to host Thanksgiving. With only my mom and sister’s family coming, a total of 9, there was plenty of time to cook, relax and hangout. During this time, my mom asked my son Matthew to play a board game. (Fortnight isn’t really her thing!) He suggested Connect4, a classic old school game even I played as a kid that challenges you to align 4 plastic discs of the same color (red or black) in a row before your opponent does. She agreed with a mischievous smirk as he eagerly setup the game, neither aware of the life lesson we were all about to (re)learn.

The game started quickly. A flurry of black and red discs dropping and clanking, in hopes of connecting 4 horizontally or vertically. I kept my distance. I watched and listened, captivated by their laughter, jokes and interaction. I couldn’t recall the last time I had observed them like this together. A real conversation with no interruptions from tweets, texts and snaps. (Yes, my mom texts.) The sounds of celebration as Matthew won, as well as despair when he lost, went on for over an hour as Grandma showed this “youngster” how her generation did it. (It was actually very funny and rewarding since he had beat me handily a day earlier.)

As they played, she paused and casually asked, “Matthew, what do you want for Christmas?”

He thought for a second, strategically placing his next disc and then said, “Money would be great, Gram”

Two thoughts went through my mind when he said that, although I said neither…

1. “Money! That’s not a good Christmas gift to ask Grandma for!”
2. “Wait….what do I want for Christmas?”

As I sat there thinking about what I wanted for Christmas, I observed the interaction between my mom and Matthew. The laughter, the connection and the love. Suddenly, what I wanted became clearer. In fact, there was no longer any doubt what I wanted this Christmas and every Christmas going forward…

I wanted “this”. This moment. This time. This awareness.

I no longer wanted any material gifts.  I had rediscovered something more precious, more enduring and more important that I had forgotten. In fact, the best gift of all….”the precious present”.

Maybe it’s because I’ll be turning 50. Maybe it’s because my daughter went to college this past fall and the house has been quiet or that my son has grown 4 inches this past year and can almost look me in the eye. Maybe it’s because of all the change in my life. Whatever the reason, at this moment, I felt different.

More reflective.

More grateful.

More connected.

And more aware that these moments and this time in our lives will never come again.

Let me say that again… these moments and this time in our lives will never come again…

• Matthew was young, innocent and still a “believer”.
• My daughter Megan at college would still be coming home for Christmas.
• My mom and dad were both still alive.
• My wife and I were still healthy.
• My sister, brother-in law and nephew were visiting for the first time in awhile.
• And so many other “fleeting moments” began to flood my mind.

It reminded me of a “gift” my mom had given me for my 25th birthday, a book written by Spencer Johnson called “The Precious Present”. Her handwritten inscription on the inside cover still insightful and relevant especially today, foreshadowing the message in the book and the most important lesson in my life.

She wrote:

“Never lose your perspective and always live in the present. Life is full of stumbling blocks, but always remember to take time out to remember where you are, who you are and the people you came from. Life is yours for living.”

My mom and Matthew eventually finished their epic battle of Connect4. Although my mom won more games, he took it in stride. Almost as if he realized in his own way that the “prize” for playing wasn’t based on who won more games, but rather the mere fact he got to play…with her. The game had “connected” more then just red and black discs that day, it had connected them…to a moment, a lesson and a gift much better than money: the Precious Present. 

How about you? What are you asking for? What is your precious present?