In Defense of Homemade

When I reflect on my childhood Christmases, I remember the family parties with all the cousins, the smell of pine and candles, and the festive food. I honestly don’t remember any of the gifts—except the homemade ones.

Because my father was an excellent carpenter and my mother a fine seamstress, Christmas always meant homemade gifts. Why should it be the small cupboard, the dollhouse, the embroidered dress, and the doll clothes that stand out in my memory? Why do I still have all these gifts—even the embroidered dress? Perhaps I kept them all because, even as a child, I sensed that someone had spent hours lovingly making them just for me.

A homemade gift was, and still is, a true gift of self and an expression of love.—Ruth N. Dickson, Salt Lake City, Utah