To sons on Christmas:

Christmas doesn’t ask you to strive harder or prove anything — it invites you to remember who you are.

Sons don’t perform their way into belonging;

they receive it.

In the quiet between the moments, when the noise fades and expectations loosen, let this be enough:

you are wanted,

entrusted,

and already held.

That’s how sons honor the gift — they remember the gift, and they receive the gift.

Remembering anchors a son in truth. It reminds him that what he carries was given, not earned — that love preceded effort, and belonging came before obedience. Receiving keeps his hands open. It resists the instinct to add, repay, or prove worth. Many men do one without the other. They remember the story but refuse the posture. Or they receive the moment but forget the meaning. Sons do both. They hold the memory, and they accept the grace. That is how a gift remains a gift — and not a debt. - three