What Kids Really Want for Christmas

Sharon JaynesChristmas Inspiration, Uncategorized 8 Comments

I love Christmas, but I didn’t always.

Growing up, Christmas meant my dad drank more, my mom fussed more, and my parents fought more.

All I wanted was a little of that “peace on earth,” that we sang about in church. (Yes, we went to church.)

Sometimes “peace” is all a kid really wants for Christmas.

I’ve asked my nephew, Jonathan Edwards, to share a little from his new book, LEFT: The Struggle To Make Sense Of Life When A Parent Leaves. Peek with me into a child’s heart to see what he or she really wants for Christmas.

One More Stocking

 It was a giant underwater city. The complexity and the detail were clearly beyond my age range and ability, but I loved it. I loved the fact that it was too difficult to do by myself. I loved that he sat with me and helped me. To date, it’s my favorite Christmas memory, being right next to my dad that Christmas day in Grandmommy’s living room. We assembled and fortified the underworld palace. His work clothes were his blue and white bathrobe, classically coupled with his brown leather slippers and, without fail, his coffee by his side.

We prepped all the men for their underwater life. Gave them all their helmets and oxygen tanks and made sure they were ready for the plunge.

They were all smiling.

It’s the most remarkable thing about life in LEGO land, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what was going on or what your job is or how much bumpy grass you have. It doesn’t matter if you have brown hair, no hair, beard, or no beard. It doesn’t matter if you’re an astronaut or a policeman or a pirate or a prisoner or a deep-sea diver or Batman.

It doesn’t matter.

You’re yellow.?And you’re smiling.

I’ll tell you this, I sure felt like a giant LEGO character that Christmas morning. I smiled the whole time.

But it wasn’t because of HIS PRESENTS.

It was because of HIS PRESENCE.

But that Christmas shared with the army of deep sea diving LEGO men was the last Christmas 5 stockings hung from the mantle.

From then on there would always be room for




His long, slender red and white striped stocking never got put up again above that fireplace. If I had known that in the midst of those ‘95 Christmas festivities, I would have done things differently. I would have forgotten about LEGO city and the toys and the candy and the pajamas, and I would have simply snuggled with him. We could have sat by the fire and not said a word. Just us two.


And son.

After that you don’t think much about Santa or toys. Your Christmas wish isn’t for Santa to come down your chimney, it’s for your dad to walk through the front door. You don’t care what kind of shoes or skateboards or computers are in the living room waiting for you on the couch. None of it matters. No gift, large or small, matters because you know the one thing on the top of your list, the one thing above all the toys and the games, is to have your family together again at Christmas. But deep down you know that it just won’t happen. You know that Santa can’t do that. He can’t go down to his workshop and tell the elves to round up your dad.

Now, 19 years later, things are different. Christmas can always be tricky in how it takes our minds to times long gone, loved ones not here this year, and memories of a life that seems like it never existed. But oh how I am grateful for those Christmas memories with him. I am thankful for those days; days characterized not by yelling, but laughing. I love to just sit and think back on the joy of those years with him.

Sure, it reminds me of his absence, but more importantly it reminds me of his presence. And that’s a good thing.

Because those days are reminders of great holidays; reasons to be grateful for time that was precious, no matter how short it might have been.

This Christmas, your family may be messy. That’s OK. Most of us are messy on some level. But one thing we can all do is to give the gift of a wonderful day filled with love. Then no matter what happens down the road, when kids look back on where they’ve been, they will remember the wonderful gift of YOUR PRESENCE.


Jonathan will be popping in to read your comments and encouragement!

ABOUT THE BOOK: Whether you’ve been left by a parent, or know someone who has, LEFT: The Struggle To Make Sense Of Life When A Parent Leaves will give you hope as you tread through the treacherous waters of abandonment and loss. Jonathan’s book is filled with stories of young men and women who have grappled with the void when a parent leaves, and gives you hope that the wound can heal, the hurt can subside, and the hole can be filled with the One who loves you best. This is an excellent resource for single parents trying to navigate the the rough waters of parenting alone, as well as for the husband or wife who is trying to understand the hurt of his or her spouse’s broken home. If you are the one who has been LEFT, you’ll no doubt understand your hurt a bit better.


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Comments 8

  1. Oh, my! As I sit here early this morning reading your post, I was hit hard. I cried my eyes out just from that little you shared. I’m a 32 year old mother of 3 who was effected by a broken home and feel that same pain still to this day. I just want everyone to be together for my kids sake but if I have to admit the truth, for my sake. How I long for those days. And apparently, I still have that hurt and pain after all these years of my parents divorce. I’ve tried to deal with it over and over again. I’m reading Sharon’s “Your Scars are Beautiful to God”. So most definitely, his book will be next. Thank you both for sharing your stories. Sharon, you bring me closer to THE ONE who loves me most daily. Thank you, ma’am!!!

  2. Beautiful recollections. If only we could know in advance the void our lost loved ones will leave in our heart–we would hold them closer, love them more, spend more time with them. I will remember your story on Christmas and it will make the day have more meaning.

  3. I was not a child when my dad left, I was 20. He had gone home to be with the Lord earlier that year. But the Christmas of 72 was not a good one, even though my mom tried, it just wasn’t the same. We had the real tree like my dad always got us, he made wreaths from ground pine, that I would go with him to gather. no more of that, my older brother read the Chapter 2 in Luke just like my dad always did, He had plenty of Christmas in the hospital, but we always went to see him and he would read the Bible story to us from his bed. Now at 63 I still miss him, more so at Christmas.

  4. I read this, and I was in tears. I am now 37, but Daddy went home to be our Father in heaven two years ago because of pancreatic cancer. It is comforting to know I will see him again one day. I don’t wish him back for even a moment, considering all the pain he was experiencing when He took him home. Now, he has the ultimate Christmas gift, he gets to celebrate Jesus’s birthday with Him. I cried for another reason. My husband left me on December 23, 2012. Although he returned April 25, 2014 for the kids, navigating Christmas with him is hard because of so many things!

  5. Jonathan, you are a brave man in sharing your memories. I think is good to share, because you let go off resentment and realize the goodness. Most of the time there is something good to grab. The post came right on time for me. See, my home is not broken, Glory to God for that. I have a marriage that makes me happy and complete. I have a beautiful family with a loving, natural man, not a super hero. Means he has faults just like me :). But the economy is been rough for us in the last 6 months. We are parents of three young boys, so beautiful, so noisy… so alive! And I have been missing that in the last few days worried that I would not be able to gift them as I will like to do. Your post has made me realize of that and brought relieve of that pressure that I put my self on. What my boys need it’s not expensive gifts, they need my love and they will probably not even make a difference on the gifts. Your words help me to open my eyes and see that I was worried and grouchy, and that I was wrong. Thank you and off course, Sharon.

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