There’s something invigorating about the anticipation and joy that comes with a holiday. Yet, the planning, the chores, and the ever-present risk of unrealistic expectations can be overwhelming. This internal conflict is what I faced when my eldest son, Ben, proposed that we establish a new family holiday: Giving Day.
The concept was straightforward, Ben explained. We would draw names, exchange small gifts, engage in a fun activity together, and then, as he put it, “carry on with our normal day.”
I was taken aback and intrigued by his suggestion. “Where did you come up with this idea?” I asked. “I just thought it would be fun,” he replied. While I was touched by his creativity and desire for generosity, I worried that Giving Day could easily become a day filled with excess—More Stuff to Deal With Day or Buy Me Something I Don’t Need Day.
As someone who aspires to minimalism, the idea of accumulating more possessions makes me uneasy. I’m keen on decluttering my life, and the last thing I want is to introduce another holiday that revolves around consumerism. Plus, with my husband and I already juggling various responsibilities, I hesitated to add yet another item to our to-do list.
Despite my concerns, Ben’s enthusiasm was contagious. As we discussed his vision further, it became evident that Giving Day was centered around two key elements: generosity and togetherness.
“What if we also give to people outside our family?” I suggested.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “We could bake cookies for the neighbors or do something nice for someone else.”
After brainstorming ideas to incorporate generosity beyond our household, we began discussing practicalities and the financial aspect. I wanted him to grasp that while money is limited, meaningful gifts don’t always come with a price tag.
“Maybe we could make our gifts or just choose small ones for each other?” Ben proposed.
“Alright. And you two will use your own money?”
“I’ll use mine, but Leo might need some help since he doesn’t have any,” he replied, showing a level of responsibility that was impressive for his age.
Confident in our plan, Ben marked “GIVING DAY” on the calendar for the next free weekend. A few days prior, we drew names to determine gift exchanges and agreed that after opening our gifts, we would bake cookies for our neighbors. The boys sought my assistance in executing their gift ideas.
When the day finally arrived, I was filled with a mix of optimism and anxiety—always a recipe for disappointment. After a relatively smooth start, we exchanged gifts. Ben gifted me a lovely journal; I gave my husband a pack of spicy almonds; Leo presented Ben with a superhero mask; and Ben received a quirky toy from Leo that he found at a garage sale. I captured a few moments of joy with photos of everyone proudly displaying their gifts.
But soon enough, the magic of Giving Day faded away. It devolved into Sibling Rivalry Day, quickly morphing into I Want Yours Day, which turned into Yelling Day and eventually Go to Your Room Day. We did manage to bake cookies for our neighbors, but the delivery came with grumbles—by the time we finished, it was pouring rain.
In many respects, that inaugural Giving Day didn’t meet my expectations. There were more tears and squabbles than I had hoped, and less selflessness than I envisioned. Yet, it also surpassed my expectations in unexpected ways. The joy in the voice of the little girl next door as she thanked us for the cookies was heartwarming. The boys decided that next year, we would make handmade gifts. And later that evening, I wrote in the journal Ben had chosen just for me.
We recently celebrated our second Giving Day, which, like the first, did not unfold as planned. Due to a broken water heater, my husband had to stay home awaiting the plumber instead of joining us for our scheduled charity work at Feed My Starving Children. Five-year-old Leo cried when Ben gifted him a drawing and “gift certificate” because it didn’t feature the Carolina Panthers, his current favorite team. And, well, he’s five, and five-year-olds do tend to cry frequently.
Despite the tears, disappointments, and unexpected changes, I eagerly anticipate the next Giving Day. Like most family holidays—or any family-oriented event, really—the chaos intertwines with the beauty, leaving love, care, and affection in its wake. There are bound to be disappointments and likely more tears, but there is also togetherness, forgiveness, and a profound spirit of generosity. And aren’t those the real gifts we want to impart to our children? Interestingly enough, it often turns out that our children teach us the most about giving, showing us the most precious gifts of all.
For more insights into parenting and family dynamics, check out this blog post about nurturing family traditions and their impact.
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In summary, our family’s experiment with Giving Day taught us valuable lessons about generosity, togetherness, and the beauty found within the chaos of family life.
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