The gift that keeps on giving…
They say the best gift you can give someone you love is time. Think anniversaries, birthdays, holidays—those milestones where we celebrate with stuff. But, let's be real: none of the "things" we collect go with us when we leave this world. Memories, though? They stay with us forever, shaping who we are. Sure, we can’t take those with us either—but those core memories, the ones that light us up and stay with us through the years, are the gifts that last.
We’ve all heard it before, especially when someone’s on their deathbed: people don’t wish for more stuff. They wish for more time. So, why not make this holiday season about time?
While the world is drowning in picture-perfect ads for this year’s "must-have" gifts—gadgets for her, tech for him, toys for the littles—let’s get creative! Forget the stuff, and give the gift of time together. I did it last year, and honestly? It was one of the most memorable years we've ever had (and yes, it came with a few hiccups, but that's what makes it fun).
Here’s the thing: We have a big age gap in our family—from 13 to 5—and we know that 5-year-olds don’t exactly get excited about the same things as a teenage boy. But you know what everyone can enjoy? Doing things together.
The idea started during our annual snow tubing trip. As we were racing down the hill, I realized this could be part of our Christmas gift—a whole year of experiences, not stuff. No one minded one bit. We were all having too much fun.
I started with something simple: the Chinese Lantern Festival. I’d seen pictures and heard stories about it, so I looked it up. Turns out, it happens every December-January in our area. Perfect! So, I told the kids on Christmas morning that their big gift was a year of adventures. Each month, they’d open an envelope with a new experience, activity, or adventure. They were all in!
The first month was the Lantern Festival. But guess what? A storm rolled in two days before our tickets, wiping out the event. Did we sulk? Of course. But instead of a Chinese Lantern festival, we ended up at Dave & Buster’s—playing games for hours. Was it the same as lanterns? No, but it was an unexpected blast, and we learned how to make the best of a hiccup.
February rolled in, and I’d booked ski lessons. But plot twist: our youngest got sick the night before. She and I stayed behind while the rest went skiing. It was a total letdown—but here’s the thing: my other kids actually cared that their little sister wasn’t there. They called to check on her, and their concern was honestly a gift in itself. It reminded me how even during the challenges, the love between siblings shines through.
In March, we went glamping. Not far from home, but far enough to feel like an adventure. There were tree swings, a cool antler chandelier, and campfire ghost stories that made us all sleep with one eye open.
April was gem mining (because who doesn't love treasure hunting?), followed by a stop at a new soda shop. May took us to a rock quarry with water obstacles and cliff jumping. Let's just say I got a sinus cleanse that day, but it was totally worth it.
For June, we revisited the hot air balloon festival I’d taken my older kids to years ago in Colorado. It was just as magical as I remembered. July had us floating down the river with water guns and plenty of snacks to survive the summer heat.
Then came August—my husband got unexpected orders that messed with our plans for a train ride to Charlotte. But you know what? We rolled with it. We loaded up the kids, told them to close their eyes, and drove them to a house where, surprise, they met their new puppy. Cue the tears, the laughs, the pure joy—that moment was a memory we’ll never forget.
September was all about our new puppy, fresh out of training camp. October brought the ultimate adventure: Disney! It wasn’t even in the original plan, but a surprise VIP tour, courtesy of a super generous friend, made it even better than we could have imagined. And then November? We went to a Renaissance fair—ate turkey legs, threw axes, and watched jousting. We even met some mermaids.
And that’s not the end of it. I still have a running list of things we want to do: tulip fields in the spring, a tea party at a lavender farm, glassblowing or pottery classes, maybe a family cooking class... The list is endless, and I plan to keep it going for years.
Next year? We're giving the gift of time again. But this time, we’re going to volunteer—12 Saturdays in 2025, spent giving back to our community. Time spent together, helping others.
As the year winds down, I’m thinking about how to wrap things up—maybe that Chinese Lantern Festival will finally happen after all. In the end, I’m so glad we gave up the stuff and embraced time. We’re making memories, even through the bumps and surprises, and we laugh about the challenges now. We look at pictures, talk about what we’ve done, and dream about what’s next. Here’s to time. Here’s to family. Here’s to memories!