The Gift

My mother has gift buying down to a science. She asks me what I want and than buys it. Even though the gift is a known entity she insists on waiting for Christmas, wrapping it up and presenting it with all the pomp and circumstance the holiday requires.

Only once in twenty-five years has she broken with tradition, the gift I received that Christmas still means more to me than all of the others combined.

To understand the gifts value a little background is necessary.

My mother you see is not a religious woman. For the first twenty odd years of her life she was a card carrying Catholic. She was baptized, made her first communion, was confirmed and she even went so far as to be married in the church.

She was if anything comfortable in her faith, at least she was until she divorced my father and eventually remarried. Which led to her being informed by the pastor that she was no longer allowed to accept communion. Her attempts to explain that my father was an alcoholic and an unfit parent fell on deaf ears. The church "graciously" allowed her to attend mass but participation was not an option.

My mother chose to no longer attend mass.

With that in mind she baptized the three of us and sent us to Catholic school. She dropped us off at mass each Sunday and picked us up when the service was over. She however would only enter a church on special occasions: baptisms, first communions, confirmations, weddings and funerals.

As I grew older I began to question my own beliefs and my spiritual journey took me down a variety of paths. I continued to attend mass with my grandmother more out of respect for her than faith. I never disowned the church as my mother had likewise I never developed the blind faith of my grandmother. For me religion was something to be explored, to be questioned but to never be accepted at face value.

With all that in mind about fourteen years ago I began wearing a silver chain with an old crucifix on it. I no longer remember the reason. It may have been a gift from a girlfriend or just something I picked up. Over time the chain became tarnished and the crucifix began to look as it had survived the two millennia since Christ's birth.

The Christmas season arrived and I presented my mother with my usual list.

Christmas day: and with it the usual family festivities. I gave my mom and stepfather their gifts and when the whirlwind of wrapping paper died down my mom presented me with a very small box.

I was stumped, confused, bamboozled and speechless. My mother had broken with tradition. I knew that none of the gifts on my list would fit in such a small box consequently I had no idea what was in the box. I must have sat there for five minutes in a vain attempt to unravel the mystery of the present.

My wits eventually returned and I opened the gift. The wrapping paper had been covering a box that resembled the type that rings come in. I knew it wasn't a ring so confusion still reigned. When finally I managed to clumsily open the box I was stunned.

Resting inside was a fourteen caret gold crucifix and chain.
My mother the affirmed agnostic had purchased a crucifix for me. My mother is not one to show emotions but when she saw the joy on my face I swear I saw a tear or two in her eye. As I thanked her she vainly attempted to hide her feelings by explaining she had only bought it because she was tired of seeing the old one around my neck.

I removed my old crucifix and chain replacing them with the new one.

In the fourteen years since I have only removed the cross and chain for x-rays and surgeries.

And I can honestly say that this gold chain once saved my life but that is a tale for another day.

originally posted 4/2004