Giving gets a lot of red-carpet treatment (as it should), but let’s shift the spotlight to the other end of giving: receiving.

To become a better receiver, it’s helpful to first understand honest gift-giving. In an earlier article,“How to be the best gift-giver this season”, you can read my embarrassing confession along with some tips on gift-giving.

To remain receptive and open-hearted takes focused effort, especially during the holidays…unless you’re a child. Notice how it requires neither focus nor effort for youngsters to receive—why is that? What’s their secret?

If you’re reading this, you were once a young-one who held the secret too. Let’s allow the Holy Spirit to take us back in our memories to a simpler time, before daily life and relationships got complicated, when we felt a deeper sense of hope and anticipation. When homemade red and green stapled, paper-chain was our favorite garland, and our tiny hands could fit amongst the tree branches to make a rebel base suitable for Luke Skywalker. A time when our open hands flowed from our open hearts.

Before I offer my tips for receiving gifts, here is a short story of one of my most memorable receiving moments. It took place when I was a little girl living in an enchanted world—the world of the 1980’s. . .

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Christmastime as an 80’s child was magical. Along with being the decade that showcased plaid, it was still the age before online shopping when we awaited the giant, holiday wish-books (sent from heaven, via JCPenny’s and Sears department stores). Even though the women’s section featured painted, pinewood geese as home décor and shoulder pads to mimic the silhouette of a hang glider, I always knew the kid’s section wouldn’t disappoint.

It was free baby-sitting for at least an hour with all that content to get through; each catalog had over 500 pages (enough weight on our laps to pin our short legs to the chair).

The items colorfully displayed within these catalogs was the stuff little girl’s dreams are made of. What sucked me in weren’t just the toys and clothes, but the lucky, young girls enjoying them with their friends! They appeared so happy and put together. I was oblivious to model-marketing; I assumed the photos of dewy pre-teens applying press-on nails and the laughing family having breakfast in coordinating plaid robes, were candidly captured in their homes.

I longed for this set and imagined sitting at the vanity to apply my lip-gloss and stick-on earrings. With a folded corner and an indented lead circle, I was confident I’d made my Christmas wish known.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived and we left for the church service, our tree sparkled with decorations but was empty underneath; an hour later, we raced up the steps to find a pile of presents. (Now I understand why they always buckled us in the station-wagon before Dad would run back inside to ‘turn off all the house lights’).

Seeing gifts surround our little tree was always a thrill, but what was this? Off to one side loomed a mysterious monstrosity covered by multiple blankets….missing its tag. Oh, how could it not have a tag? That’s the biggest rule of gift-wrapping (and having babies), YOU’RE NOT FINISHED UNTIL YOU’VE NAMED IT! My parents played coy about the giant thing standing under cover until we eventually gave up and picked our spots to begin the festivities.

Every family practices unwrapping time differently. For some, it’s every man, woman and child for themselves. Shredded paper and ribbon fly while noise levels reach pitches comparable to a squealing squad of middle-school cheerleaders. Before you can holler, “get me some scissors”, the four-minute-frenzy is over, batteries installed and trash bags are tied, headed for the curb.

My family’s tradition, in comparison, was more like an extended kindergarten circle-time.

Before my younger sister was old enough to read tags, my older brother was the present-passer-outer. Taking turns to unwrap one gift at a time, we’d go around the circle, oohing and aahing each gift (Mom folded paper and confiscated the bows to re-use another year).

That particular night, we went around and around the circle until each gift was celebrated, wondering when Mom and Dad would finally tell us what the BIG one was all about. At last, it was time. What could it possibly be? Who was it for? Like puppies wagging themselves into a panic, my brothers and I were about to come out of our skin with anticipation. Then my parents looked directly at me and smiled.

My big brother’s cheeky grin and twinkling eyes revealed he was in on it too; I couldn’t believe this massive surprise was for me. Moving toward it, I paused once more looking for one last reassuring nod, then I held my breath and yanked the blankets.

Either I passed out or my head exploded (maybe both), because after the initial shock of what was under the blankets, I have no memories. Did I scream, cry, jump around the room? I don’t know and I’ve never asked. Unfortunately (or fortunately) my family didn’t have recording capabilities in the 80’s, so I’ve never ‘re-lived’ the moment, except in my imagination.

Oftentimes, anticipating the thing ends up being the climax instead of the thing. I may not remember the rest of that Christmas Eve (I can’t recall any other gifts or details), but those Care-Bears did not disappoint.

I received every single happiness that kitchen set had to offer and played with it well into the 90’s. It became a gift to our whole family.

Certain moments stay locked in our memory’s deposit box to be withdrawn instantly, as if we just lived them the day before. I can still see where I stood next to the banister in our living room that night, feel the warm tingles in my chest, the twinkle-light ambiance . . . pure Christmassy magic.

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Ahhh memories. Do you remember what it felt like to be small—with the whole world above you and your whole life ahead of you? Here are a few thoughts about receiving that stand out to me. . .

A Child’s Tips for Receiving.

Months later, I got the bedding and curtains as a birthday gift. Still no canopy bed, but I was sharing a room with my new baby sister by then. My parents knew I’d eventually get my Christmas wish; but I wasn’t privy to that. I wasn’t thinking about the catalog pictures on Christmas Eve because all I could see was right in front of me.

The kitchen set in my living room fully eclipsed the bedroom set in the magazine.

Whatever is in front of a child is what’s real and what matters. As we grow jaded by any number of things, the opposite happens: our heart stays stuck in a fantasy, and we miss the joy of opening all the gifts in our reality.

We can’t receive a gift we can’t see, so why not ask the heavenly Father to show and tell us. After all, He’s the one who gives every good and perfect gift. Here’s a quick but powerful conversation to have: “Holy Spirit, search my heart. Show me the fantasies I’m stuck in, so I can see and receive all the gifts you have especially for me today.” Try writing down what you sense Him saying to you.

If we only knew all the gifts and giftings He has for us in this life, we’d never covet a fantasy or the life of anyone else. We are as unique as snowflakes but we need one another to make an impact. The world needs the gift of you!

Leading up to Christmas, I knew I needed this white-wicker bedroom set, but I was also aware it was too big for me to get on my own, so I asked for help.

Children know their need; they’re shamelessly dependent. Our youngest still needs help, wiping, washing, brushing and making most of her food. She’s not embarrassed or ashamed of it, she owns it—”Mom, I need you to wipe me, then get my peeeanutn’jelly for lunch!”.

This neediness is inherent, but kids don’t try to hide it like us adults. In relation to my parents, I understood who had the power and resources, and it wasn’t me. I had freedom and confidence to ask them for anything because my ask was rooted in my relationship, not my circumstances or ability.

Is this the kind of child-like faith Jesus spoke about?

Everyday, it’s a fight of faith to abide with our Father and trust His Spirit will lead us increasingly into the life He designed for us. The temptation is to lean on our own cleverness, talent, or problem solving skills to try and make our lives work according to the world’s blue print.

But we don’t need the blue-print to make our life work, Jesus is the living way. When God wanted to introduce Himself to humanity, He came as a poor, baby boy—completely vulnerable and dependent, just like us. Embracing dependence is our way into child-like faith.

Look around, anxiety and fear are screaming lies at us incessantly. They claim the whole Earth has been orphaned, saying, “Who needs a father anyway…family has progressed”. So if you’re going to ‘make it’, you’re on your own and better grab what you need faster than the one next to you. You must self-protect and self-promote; and since everyone’s vying for the same decreasing supply of resources, don’t trust anyone.

The Earth needs to know the orphan narrative is just a lie, but Jesus Christ is the only way to a loving Father. But if we, His own daughters, don’t know the character of our Father enough to depend on Him and receive His gifts, how will they?

He’s looking for faith in the Earth. What big, and impossible things are on your heart to ask your Father for? I’m asking for a revival of women over the whole Earth…and this week, for a new oven (as ours decided to give an F10 error message, which means she’s done).

There is a subtle but powerful security that came from knowing my daddy was good. The safety of his presence was the backdrop of my childhood. My dad was funny, talked kindly, and sang a lot, sometimes making up special ditties just for me. He played with us; wherever we were, it was where he wanted to be. He seemed to genuinely enjoy us.

Our Father God is like this, only more-so. He likes us, and loves to be where we are. He sings over us while we sleep, and gives us special names too (that may be hard to believe but it’s true). He longs to take care of us, but we’ve got to let Him.

One way we show we trust Him is by staying OPEN to receive what He decides to give us; not complaining and calling Him negligent because we didn’t get what we circled. Another way to think of it is anticipation vs. expectation.

I anticipated good, but didn’t have an expectation of what the good would be.

Anticipation keeps us open and alert for anything, expectations close us off to look ONLY for what we can imagine ourselves. I was specific about what I circled, but when I didn’t see it under the tree, I refused to lose faith in my parents and was rewarded with an awesome surprise. We keep asking honestly, but at the same time, we keep our hearts open to receiving His best.

Maybe you’ve stopped all asking, anticipating, and expecting because you’ve been scared, hurt, abused, or let down too many times; the battle may have been over for months (or even years) but you’ve kept your weapons ready and armor on.

We don’t pick our parents and I don’t know what you’ve been through, but whatever the case, we all have a Father who bought us out of the slave market and paid for us with His own blood. You are the reward He earned for going to the cross (you were the joy set before Him). And now He gives Himself as a gift to you. He is love. He is good.

Will you let Him disarm you?

Maybe you’ve been rejecting the Holy Spirit’s gifts; confess your hurts to Him (and bitterness, unforgiveness, or anything else that’s separating you) then ask the Father what He wants to give you in exchange for your burdens. He’s so good, you can trust the Father.

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I pray you see the gift, embrace dependency, and trust your Father so you can receive ALL He has intended just for you!