I find it galling that each and every blessed year when Christmas is glimpsed on the distant horizon, killjoy Christians start trying to instill guilt about a fundamental, sacramental part of the celebration of Jesus' coming - the giving of gifts. It's a birthday party, for God's sake! You bring presents!
The wise men knew it, and behaved accordingly. Children know it, and glory in it - and except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter in. George Bailey's neighbours knew it, and brought all they could spare.
To heck with the unreformed Scrooges of the world and their workhouses and poor laws, skipping Christmas parties and turning the portly gentlemen from their doors! To heck with the Grinches of the world, stealing the presents from all the Whos down in Whoville!
Tell those humbuggers it's the heart of the bleak midwinter, and if we want to cheer the people we love by bringing them gold, or frankincence, or myrrh, or Tickle Me Elmo or a box of chocolates or a 52 inch flat screen plasma tv, or playing our drum for them, or pouring expensive perfume all over their feet, then we'll damn well do it!
This is not the time to measure out our love, or our cheer, or life itself, with coffee spoons – all the ladles, serving spoons, gravy boats, pitchers, punch bowls, roasting pans and bathtubs in the whole house shouldn't be enough to contain it! Full measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, poured into laps!
For with the measure we use it will be measured unto us.