I realized something this morning.
The best Christmas my family ever had when I was growing up was the one time my parents actually accepted help. To them, the reason we kids enjoyed it so much was because we were given more than we deserved. We were spoiled, and happy about it.
That wasn’t it. In fact, it really wasn’t that much at all.
It was the thoughtfulness they, possibly even strangers, put into the gifts.
It was the feeling of actually being seen.
Care from strangers > “care” from parents.
