A Target Christmas catalog came in the mail this week. It was artfully done: colorful, and full of happy smiling children. It’s goal was to convince you that you could have a joyful Christmas only if you bought all this stuff guaranteed to produce joyful children (stuff available at Target, of course). Mostly that meant very expensive stuff. Mostly that meant electronic stuff. Electronic stuff that had, in every case, one solitary child interacting with an image on a TV screen.

I fear that too many parents, especially parents with little money, will despair (at least subliminally) of having happy children this Christmas because they can’t possibly afford to buy any of this stuff. They may even know that this catalog is a lie—that nothing in it can produce real happiness. Interacting with something electronic is an empty, ultimately unsatisfying endeavor. Loving interactions with other people, genuinely connecting with other people, serving others, seeking to make others happy—this produces real happiness.

I remember being a parent with little or no money for Christmas gifts. I remember overhearing my children say (about dozens of items), “I want THAT for Christmas!” as they watched yet another commercial on TV or looked at yet another printed ad. (Some scriptures come to mind: “their eyes are full of greediness.”) I felt like throwing the TV in the trash just to stop the “I want”s. It was making my children covetous and materialistic. And that guaranteed that they would be miserable on Christmas morning, and that they would think themselves deprived and cheated.

I don’t know at what age a person finally realizes that most “stuff” cannot guarantee happiness. Perhaps some people live their whole lives and never come to that realization. An old song from my parent’s era proclaimed that “the best things in life are free.” It was never a favorite of mine—crummy tune, bad poetry, saccharine sentiments. But, it seems to become truer all the time.

The moon belongs to everyone.
The best things in life are free.
The stars belong to everyone.
They gleam there for you and me.

The flowers in spring,
The robins that sing,
The sunbeams that shine,
They're yours, they're mine.

And love can come to everyone.
The best things in life are free.



My biggest fear is that we are all addicted to our electronic stuff and have lost touch with stuff that is real. And wholesome. And healing. And deeply satisfying. Anyone up for a walk in (or a dive into) the autumn leaves?