[It's December 25th. Across the nation and the world today, lots of wonderful memories are being made. Here's mine.]

I grew up in a family where Christmas is a holiday of excess. Lots of loot. But lots of love, too. There was nothing impure or sinister about the excesses of the Christmases I’ve known, just a lot of joy associated with giving gifts — and lots of them. I have always known, fundamentally, that my sister and I were blessed and lucky to find everything we’d asked for — and more– waiting for us each Christmas morning. And, as a parent, I’d also known that the gifts Santa brings for my own children were far less important than the joy and happiness that spending time with family brings. But, somehow, recently, I’d lost touch with the fact that the quality of the holiday has nothing to do with the quantity of it. This Christmas, my husband singlehandedly reconnected me.

This holiday was the first holiday we celebrated as a “single-income” family. Late last year, I quit my job and became a full-time “stay-at-home” mommy. While my staying at home has been an incredible growing experience for all of us, there are some aspects of my new life that I still haven’t quite fully accepted with grace. Our new budget is one of them.

Facing the holidays on that budget has been very difficult. Decorations were cast about the house only half-heartedly, as I struggled with the fact that I simply couldn’t go buy all the house-trimmings that I felt I needed to make the home ready for the holidays. I sadly purchased small gifts when I really wanted to purchase big gifts. I hand-made “smaller” gifts, with a little embarrassment at their crudeness, when I really wanted to purchase small gifts. I struggled when I compared what I’d received from someone with what I’d given them. And I winced a little when others gave me gifts and I had nothing to give them in return. All of this — before the day of Christmas, itself!

But it was this morning–Christmas morning–that I was reminded that all of my worries and frustrations were utterly misplaced.

First, placed in my stocking, was my watch. Not a new watch, but the watch I’ve had for several years. This is the same watch that has sat on my dresser for months, awaiting a new battery to make it useful once again. The watch I pulled out of my stocking had a new battery in it. But my husband gave me so much more than a new battery. He gave me the time it would have taken to go get it fixed. He gave me the serenity it would have cost to bring the kids in tow and supervise their curious hands while I was in the repair shop. And, so much more importantly, he gave me his thoughtfulness.

My lesson was not complete.

The next gift I opened was crudely wrapped — like all presents my husband wraps. It contained two compact disc jewel cases. On one, the image of a duck. On the other, the image of a junebug. I instantly burst into tears. (And am doing so, once again, as I write this.)

Years ago, when we were dating long distance, Tim sent me a “mix tape”. Perhaps the penultimate indicator of the seriousness of any 20-year-olds’ relationship, this tape even indicated as such in the “liner” notes: “Oh no! A mix tape! Things must be getting serious.” He’d even given the compilation a name: “Ducks and Junebugs” — a reference to both a line in a David Lynch film and his characterization of how he would be when he saw me once again: “I’ll be all over you like a duck on a junebug.”

In our many months apart, I listened to the tape incessantly and almost wore it out. It got lost for a little while, and when we thought it had resurfaced, it turned out it was merely the tape case and liner paper. Nevertheless, the empty case remained in our car, his hand-scribbled liner notes always a reminder of a very special time in our relationship.

So, this morning, when I saw those two jewel cases, one with a duck, one with a junebug, I knew instantly what the gift was. Tim had taken the time to re-create my “mix-tape” in modern medium. Once again, I can play that particular mix of tunes and remember not only those months we were apart, but all of the years since then that we’ve been together. Things must have been very serious, indeed.

This year, my list of Christmas loot includes a battery and a compact disc. It was the most bountiful Christmas ever.