“We Ain’t Got Much… But We Had a Whole Lot”

Getting ready for Christmas back then didn’t start with shopping carts or credit cards.It started with a Sears catalog laid out on the floor like sacred scripture.

We circled things with a pen like we were making deals with Santa himself — knowing full well he might glance at it, nod politely, and move on.

You learned early not to circle too confident.

Mama put up a few decorations — not enough to impress company, but enough to make the house feel like Christmas had moved in. We popped popcorn and strung it around the tree, ate half of it before it ever made it there, and called it decorating.

Fire going in the fireplace.Cold outside.House warm enough to make you sleepy.

Mama in the kitchen cooking Christmas dinner like she was feeding the whole county, even if she wasn’t sure how many were coming yet — because in a small town, folks just showed up.

By Christmas morning the house was packed.Family everywhere.Kids running through like they’d been wound up too tight.Screen door slamming so much it never cooled off.

And we didn’t have much.

But what we had was good.

A lot of the gifts didn’t come from a store. They came from somebody’s hands.

Potholders.Crocheted blankets.Hand-knitted scarves and gloves.Pillowcases sewn with those fancy designs nobody can remember the name of, but everybody had.

If it had yarn on it, it showed love.If it had stitches, it came with patience.

And sometimes Daddy would make things out of wood.

Simple toys.Little trucks.Stuff that didn’t need batteries because batteries were always missing anyway.

They weren’t fancy, but they were solid. You could drop them, step on them, or hand them down to the next kid — and they’d still be around long after the store-bought stuff gave up.

Some toys broke before noon.Some lasted a lifetime.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember what most of the gifts were.

But I remember who gave them.

I remember coffee pots that never emptied.Laughter rolling through the house.Wrappings piled knee-deep.Somebody saying, “Don’t throw that away!” every five minutes.

I remember how it felt.

And that’s the part folks today don’t quite get.

We didn’t get everything we wanted.But we remembered everything.

Christmas back then wasn’t about the gift — it was about the moment.

You might not have gotten the toy you circled.But you got something better.

You got stories.You got warmth.You got together.

And maybe that’s why those Christmases stuck with us.

We ain’t got much…but we had a whole lot.

And looking back now, I wouldn’t trade one of those loud, homemade, popcorn-strung Christmases for all the shiny stuff in the world.