Small Things, Big Impact: What a $5 Christmas Taught Me About Being Human

Some stories follow you your whole life. They don’t seem profound when they happen — they feel ordinary, maybe even disappointing — but years later, you realize they shaped the way you see the world. One of those stories landed in my life when I was a teenager. I call it the $5 Christmas.

That year was incredibly difficult for my family. Bills were due, the cost of living had gone up, and work had dried up. Money was scarce, and we had five dollars for Christmas. Not figuratively — literally five dollars.

There were no new things that year. No piles of gifts under the tree. I honestly can’t remember what we even bought with those five dollars. But I do remember what we made: pictures, cards, simple handmade gifts that took our feelings and turned them into something tangible for someone else.

Oddly enough, it’s the Christmas I remember most fondly. That was the year it became clear to me that people don’t really want “things.” They want to know you care. They want to know you see them.

That season planted something in me — not just appreciation, but a sense of responsibility. A reminder that small gestures carry real weight.

A few years later, when I was in college running a campus ministry, I learned about a local rehab facility for women recovering from alcohol and drug addiction. Some of the women had young children — kids between two and six years old. I reached out and we adopted one family that first year. I think it was two kids under five.

I gathered their Christmas lists and then did what broke college kids do: I reached out to everyone. My parents, other parents, students who barely had a dollar to spare — anyone willing to help. Somehow, we pulled it off. We gave those kids a Christmas.

I’ll never forget the youngest one ripping open a box and lighting up with pure joy. There’s something about that kind of joy that hits you in the heart and stays there.

The next year, we expanded from one family to four — eight or nine kids total. Again, we banded together and made it happen. Their wish lists were humble: clothes, small toys, hygiene products, simple items most of us take for granted. Shopping for them reminded me what Christmas is really all about.

As life moved on, my own seasons shifted too — and not always in ways I expected. These last few years have been rough. Prices climbed. Paychecks shrank. I remember more than once staring at the math, knowing it didn’t work on paper, and yet somehow, by God’s grace, it always worked out in real life.

During those seasons, Christmas felt as out of reach as a Disney vacation — beautiful, but impossible.

But then kindness showed up.

People helped in ways that marked me deeply. Maybe some of you reading this were part of that kindness. Some I know. Many I’ll never meet. Gifts arrived unexpectedly. Encouragement showed up when I needed it most. Little lifelines landed at exactly the right moment.

There’s a song called “Christmas Is Love” on an album by the same name. The title track centers around a simple truth: even in a world determined to divide us, what people need most is love — kindness, compassion, a hand extended to someone in need.

(If you want to hear it: https://music.apple.com/us/album/christmas-is-love/1541222542?i=1541222545)

That message resonates with me because every story I’ve shared — the $5 Christmas, the kids in the rehab program, the kindness shown to my family — reminds me that small moments transform people.

That moment you pay for someone’s lunch?

You have no idea what they’re carrying. It may be the first good thing that’s happened to them in weeks.

That moment you call a friend?

You might interrupt a battle they’re losing silently.

That moment you send a note of encouragement?

It may land at the exact moment they’re losing hope.

Love doesn’t have to be dramatic to be real. It doesn’t have to be big to matter. Everything I’ve lived — and everything I’ve seen others live — reminds me of one truth: we are human, and we need each other.

The world works hard to divide us, because unity makes us strong. Think back to the early days of COVID. For a brief moment, everyone helped everyone. People cared. Neighbors checked in. Kindness wasn’t rare.

I want more of that in our world.

I want that world back.

I’d trade every argument I’ve ever had for a world that chooses to love one another — even imperfectly.

By God’s grace, this year my family was able to donate toys to one of the programs that helped us last year. Twelve months ago, we weren’t in a position to bless anyone. This year, we got to give back.

The program we donated to has nearly 200 kids on the list this year — and the only way they’ll have anything under the tree is through the kindness of strangers they’ll never meet. We’re not the reason those kids will have Christmas. We’re just a drop in the bucket.

But drops matter.

When they fall at the right moment, they ripple.

This holiday season, that’s where my heart is: being human and loving others.

Not perfectly.

Not impressively.

Not heroically.

Just honestly.

Recognizing that the world is hard on people — even those who look like they have it all together. Recognizing that struggle doesn’t follow income brackets. Recognizing that every single one of us is walking through something.

And recognizing that the world becomes more beautiful when we choose to make it so — in small, daily, ordinary ways. You don’t need permission to do something beautiful for someone else.

We don’t need massive movements to change things.

We need kindness.

We need people willing to notice one another.

We need fewer arguments and more compassion.

We need people willing to pause, to care, to give, and to reach out.

We are all more alike than we think.

We all need grace.

We all need reminders that people care.

I remember standing in front of a room full of toys once — presents wrapped by strangers who simply wanted to show love. I can still feel the emotion that washed over me: tears, gratitude, and something deeper I still can’t fully put into words.

We all need reminders that people care. And the holidays give us an excuse — maybe even an invitation — to offer that to one another.

So this season, try being the blessing.

And if you can’t right now — that’s okay. Be patient with yourself. Hold onto kindness when it comes your way, and when the time is right, pay it forward.

Because the truth is simple:

Small things matter.

A $5 Christmas can change a kid.

A box of toys can change a moment.

A kind word can change a day.

A small act of love can change a life.

And a small baby laid in a manger can change the world.