Below is one of the three finalist entries for the 2018 Holiday Writing Challenge. The other two entries will be posted over the next two days. After you’ve read them all, vote for your favorite with our blog poll!

***Please note all entries have been posted as submitted.***

It’s a Wrap—the Gift that Keeps on Giving

Each year, the light’s dimmer, the gift books slimmer, and the holidays, co-opted by the great annual shopping season, seem grimmer. I don’t mean to sound so gloomy, but I’m trying to get back to the joy, to how it all began.

Growing up in my house, there were Hanukkah miracles, Maccabees, super-heroes, songs, delectable fried potato latkes and treats, Crayola-colored candles in wax-coated menorahs, dreidels (spinning tops) and lastly, presents. My parents had four kids, so we didn’t get great gifts all eight nights. Sometimes a box of chewing gum was it. It came without ribbons, and we had to share. When my turn came, we gave our sons practical pencils sets and scarves, and the occasional guilt-driven “Nintendo” game of the day.

For Christmas gatherings at friends’ homes, they did the same. Save the planet minded parents gave handmade, non-commercial gifts. A particular non-favorite were subscriptions to educational magazines, like National Geographic, and books that weren’t exactly Harry Potter.

Later on, the busy hive of gift-making at my college roommate’s home in rural Massachusetts, seemed the way to go. Her father grew and sold Christmas trees. They were artsy crafters, knitting, sewing, painting, welding, constructing everything from scratch, calico dolls to corduroy cats and jingly-jangly instruments. And the pies—earth to heaven!

As years passed, a global “gift shift” tested my make-it yourself resolve. Today’s children, including my relatives, grandson (baby granddaughter’s too young), expect commercial, glitzy stuff, like I-pads. The lower lip quivers before a feeble smile emerges after a modest book or paint set is given. They whisper “Thank You,” but don’t write thank you notes.

Balancing all factors, I’ve gone creative—since everything’s “activity-based” from pre-school on, so are my gifts. Glittery boxes wrapped in recycled paper house surprises—scents, candles, nail polish, beads, for the girls. Hands-on, non-toxic mini-art stores for the under eights. And books, classics, because one day they will thank me for not going all Kindle-y on them.

I give the gift that keeps on giving. Last year it came without ribbons. This year, the same. For my precociously material-minded grandson, age five, I give my time. We play Hide & Seek, build Leggo towers, do puzzles, whatever his heart desires and money can’t buy. Love comes without ribbons and price tags. And lasts longer than a month full of miracles.