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Each year, without fail, I have what I call my "Christmas moment." Preoccupied with the busy-ness of daily life, I forget all about it until it happens.

This year, my Christmas moment came in mid-November. I had spent a day with some old friends with whom I was close about 30 years ago. It's always a fun time when we get together, reminiscing about our carefree, single "20-something" lives.

But at this particular reunion, I was overwhelmed at the realization of how unalike we really are. My friends come from affluence and privilege; their lives have taken them in a very different direction than mine. Listening to their stories of tropical vacations and home renovations was enough to paint me green with envy.

On the drive home, I made a mental list of all the things I don't have:

• I don't have double sinks in my bathroom or a granite-topped island in my kitchen.

• I don't have leather seats in my car, an automatic car-starter or even an automatic garage door opener.

• I don't have a massage, facial and manicure at the spa each week...or each month...or each year. OK, I've never had a facial in my life.

• I don't have a Coach purse, an Ann Taylor suit or any Gucci jewelry.

• I don't have a smart phone, an iPad or a Kindle.

• I don't have a condo in Florida or a time share in the Bahamas.

The list went on and on. I arrived home in a frenzy of self-induced jealousy which had percolated to the boiling point. Thank God no one was in the house when I arrived.

I sat on the couch and stared out the window. Two sparrows and a bluejay were eating seed from the feeder outside. I watched them for a good long time until, unexpectedly, Matthew 6:25 popped into my head: "Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet the heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more important than they?"

That's when I had my Christmas moment. An endless inventory of all the things I do have began rolling before my eyes like the credits at the close of a movie:

• I have a bird feeder attached to the window that delights my mother to such an extent that her eyes sparkle with joy each time she visits.

• I have a husband of almost 25 years who still says, "I love you," and, "You look pretty," every single day - really.

• In a troubled economy, I have a job. What's more, I have a job I believe in.

• I have ultrasound photos of each of my sons before they were born - the same infants who have grown into (somewhat) responsible young adults.

• I have a killer recipe for burgers and a grill in my backyard that I continue to use, even when there is snow on the ground.

• I have good friends from my Catholic elementary school who are still my good friends.

• I have a Christmas tree that shimmers and glistens and sets the living room aglow when we turn off all the lights.

• I have the unconditional and everlasting love of God the Father.

I saw it all clearly, for a moment - my Christmas moment, when the essence of Christmas came rushing into my body, penetrated the center of my being and swelled my heart with sudden understanding and gratitude.

I have no need to worry about my clothes, vacations or possessions. They are not the "treasures" that matter.

The Christmas story tells us that when Mary gave birth to Jesus, she did so in a dirty, smelly uncomfortable stable, with no heat and no help. Jesus, at His birth, had nothing. He was, and is, the embodiment of pure selflessness and love, the Word Made Flesh.

All of the "don't haves" simply distract from the real prize: I am loved and redeemed by God, who calls me by name and loves me so much He gave me the gift of His one and only Son! I am richly blessed.

This Christmas, I am counting my blessings - and resolving to live the Christmas moment every day of my life.

(Mrs. Gallagher is director of pro-life activities for the New York State Catholic Conference, the public policy arm of the state's bishops.)[[In-content Ad]]

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