Reframing the List

The request arrived even earlier this year in the form of an email.

“Have you thought about your Christmas List?” my mother wrote. “I’d like to start shopping early this year.”

It was mid-October. She usually waits until early November before she starts asking (or nagging, depending on my mood) and gives my brothers and me a Thanksgiving deadline. But for some reason she decided to start early, and I felt the pressure.

It’s been a month since she first made the request, and I still haven’t attempted a list. I always struggle with it, but this year seems even more challenging than usual. There isn’t anything I need, and I can’t think of anything I want.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why I struggle with such a simple task, asking my parents to buy me gifts. I used to think it was about clutter and not wanting a bunch of “stuff” in my house, but I realize it’s deeper than that.

It’s about money. Something we never had much of growing up.

We never went hungry, or were homeless or anything like that. We always had food on the table, clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads. But I always knew that it wasn’t easy at times for my parents. My father worked 41 years at a job he didn’t care for, barely missing a day of work and putting in plenty of overtime, in order to take care of his family.

My father is retired now and providing for my mother and himself with a pension and social security. The same roof remains over their heads, and food and clothing are plenty. In theory, since they no longer support my brothers and me, money for Christmas shouldn’t be an issue.

But in reality, there are bills. Both my parents have battled major illness in the past eight years. Both almost died. They survived, but their health requires a large chunk of that retirement income. They don’t mention it, but I’ve seen the thick binder of medical bills that sits on my father’s desk next to the computer.

The thought of them spending money on me makes me feel guilty. The guilt makes me struggle with the Christmas List. Yes, my mother asks for it. But the guilt is still there, hanging over my head like a storm cloud.

I mentioned my struggle to a friend. She suggested I reframe the idea of the Christmas List and look at it from my mother’s point-of-view. Mom enjoys shopping, especially at the holidays. She wants my brothers and me to have a happy Christmas, and in her mind that involves presents wrapped underneath a tree. She also doesn’t want to disappoint and buy us something we don’t want, like or already own, so that’s why she places such value on the list. Write a list, my friend suggested. Don’t worry about if they can afford it. They know their limits. Enjoy making her happy.

And that’s what I’m going to do.