Close your eyes. Can you remember your favorite Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? Were there icicles dangling off the eaves? Was the landscape smoothed out in snow like a wool blanket draped over a bed? Was there one gift or 10? Maybe there were no gifts at all, and that is exactly the reason why this particular year sticks out in your mind. Lean times have a way of drudging up gratitude that we did not even know we could muster.

I recall such a chilly Christmas Eve night long ago. We had just tucked three little ones into bed. We were tired from already spending a day with family and then a service at church way past when toddlers should have been asleep.

Our humble little tree was cut down and hauled in from the farm. There were not going to be towers of gifts holding up the spindly branches. It was one of those “lean” years. Medical bills had piled up. Possessions did not matter; two cribs and a toddler bed held our precious treasures.

I had sewed and my husband had sawed. There were simple, homemade gifts, and three skinny stockings hung without the delight of many bulges or toys peeking out the top. But we were in our little house. We were warm, safe and together. And I wept like a baby as I was overcome with just how much we had been undeservingly blessed. There were no gifts for one another — there was barely money to scrape together for groceries. But to us, it was a precious time.

After a full day of celebrating with our little brood and extended family on Christmas Day, we finally trudged home with tired little ones yet again. Our hearts were full. Unpaid bills could not put a damper on our contentment. Our arms were full of babies, bundles and grandparent gifts. We almost missed the envelope on the table. To this day, we have no idea who left the $100 bill.

Pay it forward

A few years ago, our oldest daughter was set to have a “lean” Christmas. While they were celebrating with her husband’s family, we crept in like elves. We washed the dishes in the sink and swept the floor. I remember well how three babies come before chores some days. We stocked the fridge, and then we stacked presents under the tree until ornamented branches were propped up by boxes of all sizes.

There was a phone call later that sounded like sobbing gratitude. We understood. We had been there.

We give and we receive. We bless and we are blessed. We remember and we look ahead, full of gratitude for the greatest gift to mankind ever. That gift taught us what love is, how to give it and how to receive it.

McClain writes from Greenwood, Ind.