Make a New Normal

Buying Stuff

"Buying Stuff" - a photo inside a clothing store with signs declaring 50% off.
"Buying Stuff" - a photo inside a clothing store with signs declaring 50% off.
Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Unsplash

Obligation, generosity, and the gift-giving season.


Episode 46 of the Make Saints podcast: “Buying Stuff”


the episode script

This time of year, as our minds move from family gatherings to holiday gift-giving, I can’t not think about the strangeness of this season. We find ourselves, once again, trying to buy more stuff. Like we didn’t do this same thing last year.

I love presents. Especially giving presents. 

And I generally have a “if the spirit moves me” vibe to it all. But, as my spouse would gladly point out, the spirit so rarely moves me to buy her flowers.

I described the problem of gift-giving previously: specifically the problem of giving a gift while also expecting a gift in return means we aren’t truly giving a gift. And there is nothing quite like the holiday season to inspire us toward obligatory gift-giving.

Family Abolition

A few years ago, my Mom and I conspired to stop giving gifts at Christmas time. The whole thing felt wrong. And the obligation, itself, so mistaken. She and I agreed that we’d focus on the holiday, being together, and having fun experiences as a family. (It also helps that I wasn’t five anymore.)

When we shared our scheme with my sister and father, they were…less enthused.

Particularly my Dad. He loves giving gifts. He doesn’t really need anything. He’s satisfied with a good book. But the rest of us! We obviously need to be showered with presents.

I love my Dad, and this was totally how it went. But what made it hilarious is he was also notorious for shopping on Christmas Eve. Talk about being moved by the Spirit!

Other Obligations

Many have entered into similar conversations about gift-giving. Especially at work or with extended family. It was cute when our siblings had littles, but it gets weird when you’re having to come up with a personalized and well-thought-out gift for a niece you haven’t seen in a decade.

The obligation of gift-giving certainly steals the joy of the season. At least when we’re struggling to muster some of that seasonal spirit ourselves.

Selfishness

Now, I shouldn’t give the impression that I’m a truly altruistic gift-giver. I’m more of a recovering greedy SOB. [Is there an addiction to acquisition?]

I suppose we all go through a phase, probably sometime in the pre-teen years, where our selfishness is off-the-charts. I don’t think mine was generally all that bad, but Christmas was a whole other matter.

I have a memory that still haunts me of rejecting a present my Dad gave me: an elaborate model of a space shuttle: one he hoped we’d build together. My rejection, then, wasn’t just the disappointment in receiving that gift well. It was a “gift” I kept giving in not putting it together with him, each time he brought it up.

As much as I’ve outgrown that awful time and have come to forgive that kid, it isn’t fair to say that kid isn’t still a part of me. He shows up every time I see a pile of presents. Regardless of whose they are. In a small way, every present turns part of me into Gollum, declaring it “my precious.”

I don’t like wanting stuff.
And I don’t like obligating others to buy me stuff.
It’s gross.

I’m bad at this

And yet I love brightening another person’s day. I love seeing something that reminds me of someone and wanting them to have it. 

This is why I’m a terrible minimalist. I’m trying to reject owning stuff myself, but I want the people I love to have all of the things!

Deep down, though, this pursuit is genuinely about generosity. Wanting to be giving, thoughtful, and creative. A kind of courageous way of building intimacy with loved ones, friends, and those people who are sharing different parts of our lives with us. A way of knowing them and expressing something so hard to say, even to those people closest to us.

I love you. And I want you to be happy.

I’m Drew Downs. Thanks for listening to Make Saints. Because (eternal) life is hard. And we could use all the help we can get.