December 2022

This month we ask our students to tell us about the best Christmas
 presents they have received - or given!

A Christmas dream

Sarah Miller
MSMU Class of 2026

When I think of the greatest gift that somebody has ever given me for Christmas, my heart always goes to a specific moment during Christmastime. The day after the Christmas of 2021, I received a very specific phone call.

In December of 2021, I got the call that I was selected to be a part of the JROTC Flight Academy where I would learn and become a Private Pilot. The acceptance criteria and testing were intense and had an eight percent acceptance rate, but I achieved my goal. Applicants had to submit a resume, take the AFOQT (The Air Force Officer Qualifying Test), pass a physical fitness test, and obtain a First Class Medical Certificate. I passed with soaring colors, and little did I know this experience would change my life.

Flight Academy is an 8-week flight program, fully funded by the Air Force where I would receive 60 hours of flight time to complete my private pilot’s license. If you didn't complete it in 60 hours, you had to finish your requirements when you arrived home. In the summer, I was relocated to Florida Memorial University, in Miami-Gardens, Florida where I flew out of Opa-Locka Airport to do my flight training.

I was faced with much adversity during the whole experience. It is very challenging to get your private pilot’s license in 8-weeks, let alone having to complete it in Florida’s heat and aggressive weather in the summertime. My first phase was completing my written exam, which was a test just on aviation ground knowledge and flight procedures. We had to take this test two weeks after arriving in Florida, and the transition was very challenging. I needed strength because this training was rigorous, and to be completely honest, I would not call myself good at math or STEM at all, in general.

I passed the written exam with a 94 percent, one of the best in my class. I stayed up every night studying and checked my first box. After this time, I really started flying through the program (literally). After my 6th week, I was at 40 hours of flying and I was cleared for my first solo. Unfortunately, I was hit with some adverse weather cells along the course of my flight, so I had to land in the Everglades at an unsupervised airport, low on fuel with no cell reception at all.

I was in contact with the tower at the airport about 15 miles away, keeping in touch with the NOTAMS and aviation weather that was surrounding my flight. I waited about 30 minutes, and the weather was already better, so I flew back to Opa-Locka. As I was flying back, I was in contact with Opa-Locka tower and they notified me about a jet that was westbound from Miami International Airport as I was flying east. I looked around for this jet and, of course, 100 feet right under my little single-engine, Cessna, he rocked my airplane like a tsunami on a canoe.

I wouldn’t like to be cheesy and say that the greatest gift someone ever gave me that day was my safety, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I thought I was going to die that day. Let me just say, this was quite a first solo.

I touched down at Opa-Locka, tied down my aircraft and as tradition played out, I got a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on me. That feeling was so euphoric, and I thanked God and my flight instructors up and down for teaching me how to face adversity in one of the hardest times of flight.

As the weeks started concluding, my oral exam and check ride (my in-flight exam) were right around the corner. I was very nervous because I soloed so late in my training and I felt very rushed, but I knew that I could do it.

My check-ride day was a beautiful, sunny morning and I woke up ready to become a pilot. My oral exam was over in 30 minutes, and my examiner told me that "I knew my stuff." After my oral exam, my check-ride commenced and I started with my pre-flight. I inspected the aircraft and started the plane up, my examiner watching every single move. I had to complete all of the private pilot maneuvers, emergency procedures, and 3 different kinds of takeoffs and landings in the traffic pattern. I was in the air for about two hours. There was another storm on the horizon, so I had to complete every maneuver in a timely fashion. I flew over the Everglades, completed everything perfectly, and even recovered from a spin that was induced by a power-on stall.

I flew back to the airport, landed, and my examiner shook my hand and said, "great job, pilot." That instant, my life was changed. I had my ‘Private Pilot Graduation’ that my mother and grandmother flew out to see; it was a beautiful ceremony and I received my wings with pride. After graduation, my grandmother gifted me with her rosary from her first communion many years ago.

That day, I was also gifted with the second-greatest gift that anyone ever gifted me.

I grew closer to God after my experiences with becoming a pilot, through all of the trials that I had to face throughout the eight weeks. My grandmother, one of the most Catholic individuals I have ever met, solidified that God was watching over me throughout this whole experience. After she gave me her rosary she said, "this rosary has given me safety throughout my whole life, so now, whenever you fly, keep these in your pocket and it will keep you safe, too."

For the past year and a half, I have always flown with her rosary in my right pocket. I have not been hit with any adverse weather or even any close calls with jets. That call the day after Christmas will always be close to my heart. It is the greatest gift I was ever given, and one I will forever cherish. When the snow falls it reminds me to look at the sky. Whenever I see an airplane, I think of how thankful I am. Thank you, Santa!

Read other articles by Sarah Miller

There is no better gift to give

Joseph Carlson
MSMU Class of 2025

The only gift that matters is the kind of person you are for those you love. Physical gifts are just one practice of this but, ideally, the physical gifts you give to those you love are simply a gratuitous addition to the gifts you give to them in living for them.

When I was in third grade, there was an item on TV that I put at the top of my wish list. It came with all sorts of weird plastic parts and tubes and things which could be put together and customized to make a track for a ball you’d put at the top. If I remember correctly, it was $300, and since it was at the top of my wish list, my parents got it for me, though we were by no means rich. When we got it, I was excited briefly, I gave up on putting it together, my father finished building it, I used it a few times, and never used it again. My dad donated it. They never mentioned it again.

To them, the point of purchasing that item was to love me. Even if they were simply watching their money burn, they were willing to let it burn for the possibility that it would make me happy. There is much to be said about prudence, but even more to be said about mercy.

As you can tell, I grew up entitled. I never had to worry about anything besides normal adolescent stuff (school, social life, etc.) because it was a given that my parents would take care of everything else. What is especially surprising is that most of my close friends seemed to have generous parents too. I am certain that I was blind to much going on in the lives of those around me.

I had a friend in high school who was Jehovah’s Witness. Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t believe in holidays, so my friend never received presents on holidays. I remember asking him about it and he said that it didn’t matter because his dad gives him presents randomly at other times besides holidays. I thought that was odd, but it seemed like he had a lot more gratitude than I did. Since he didn’t expect to receive presents, when he did, it meant more.

There have been years when I haven’t gotten one or two of my family members anything. They never cared, though I often thought that they should have cared. They basically didn’t notice. When you give, truly give, you do not expect anything in return. So, while anything I gave them was nice, if they didn’t receive anything back, they barely noticed because that is just not what they cared about. They cared about making me happy, and I was happy, so they were happy.

This way of thinking about gifts has gradually changed for me. The first step was probably my getting a job, and realizing the value of money in terms I understood: ten dollars an hour. If I had gotten that weird $300 gift for my parents, it would have taken me at least 30 hours to pay for it from my own labor. That struck me; my time was so precious, and money had seemed so spendable. I used to ask my dad for money to walk across the street with my friends to buy Chick Fil A. He always gave me more than I needed, and I rarely gave that money back; I just spent it on more Chick Fil A. There were weeks during the summer when I would buy an eleven dollar meal three or four times. When I began working for Chick Fil A, and that meal cost an hour of my life, I wasn’t so quick to order it.

The second step was my having someone whom I actually wanted to give gifts to. A little over three years ago, I had my first girlfriend, the same person I am in love with now. I am fortunate enough to be partnered to my best friend. For the first time in my life, I wanted to give someone something, and I did not care about receiving anything back. I imagined proposing to her and giving her dozens and dozens of roses (overkill, I know). I did get her things; I insisted on buying her meals, flowers, chocolate. I still do that, though the one who pays for the meal has since been the one who makes the most money at the time (which is definitely her at some points).

The most important, and ongoing step, has been my realizing the immense chasm between the quality of her gifts and of mine, and what that says about her and I. The best I’ve ever done has been writing her songs, poems, or letters. She paints, and she is very good at it. My walls are full of hundreds of hours’ worth of her effort. She rarely keeps her paintings; she only ever gives them away. Her first Christmas gift to me was a painting that she had apparently spent the least time on (according to her, four hours isn’t a lot, though she did spend 40 hours on something she recently gave to her mom). It was something I had said that I would love; an icon of our Lord Jesus and His Sacred Heart, but where the heart is a rose. I do love it; it helps me pray every single day. There is no better gift to give.

I have still managed to be ungrateful often. Burning money, or even worse, time (which is your life), rarely has its desired effect immediately. The realization that I exist and that I live a happy life only because of the intense wasting of other peoples’ resources is frightful. I wonder whether it was worth it for them to do that. They sure think so. Giving without expecting anything back is slow and monotonous, requires a profound love, and often takes years to see gratitude; but if you ever wanted to change someone’s life, that’s the best way to do it.

Read other articles by Joseph Carlson

All I want for Christmas is world peace

Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

"What do you want for Christmas, Poppop?"

I’m nine years old, sitting on the arm of my grandfather’s recliner chair, swinging my legs back and forth. It was only November, on the brink of December, but I was already planning my Christmas list for everyone in the family. I’d give Mom a homemade beaded necklace, Dad an ornament made from bottle caps, and my sister a coupon book. Really, at this age, I was quite creative. And everyone knew it.

Poppop smiled. My favorite things about him were the smell of his cologne and the way his blue eyes twinkled whenever I said something. With a soft laugh, he looked around the living room, and then at me. "I want world peace," he said.

"World peace?" I’m only nine. I had no idea how unfathomable this idea was.

Poppop smirked. "No, I’m just messing with you. I’ll take a bottle cap ornament, like your dad."

Laughter erupted around the room when my grandfather said this, and for a moment, I felt a pang of shame. Of course he didn’t want a bottle cap ornament. He wanted world peace, and I simply couldn’t give it to him. After all, I was only nine.

"I—I guess," I said. "Yeah, I can do that."

Poppop gave me a little hug, and then he walked away to help my grandmother wash dishes. Everyone else in the living room was talking, laughing, and eating, but I sat on the arm of my grandfather’s recliner chair, wondering how I could possibly give someone world peace for Christmas.

I thought about this for the next two weeks. November had faded to December, and the air had grown colder, smelling more and more like snow. In short, everything was starting to look like Christmas. And I still had no idea how to give Poppop world peace as a present.

Until one day. I remember looking through an old drawer in the basement, and finding a dusty, empty mason jar. Suddenly, everything clicked.

I spent the entire afternoon painting the jar with brushstrokes of deep blue and green, mixing the colors together and watching them blend, creating new shades. It looked like a globe, with different patches of green swirling into the blue of the ocean, and the colors layered just perfectly so that they still remained translucent against the glass. And then, with just a dip of red, I painted a small peace sign in the center. It was almost perfect.

What happened next was the height of my nine-year-old creativity. I took a tealight candle and dropped it into the jar. Then, I showed my sister.

"You got Poppop…a candle?" she asked, tilting her head.

"It’s world peace," I said, turning the mason jar. "See? It’s the world. With a peace sign. And yes, there’s a candle inside."

Christmas Eve arrived, and on that night, we exchanged gifts with everyone in the family. When it was my turn to give my presents, I was terribly nervous. Dad had really loved his bottle cap ornament, and Mom was wearing her necklace, but truly all I cared about was if Poppop had gotten what he asked for. World peace.

It was wrapped in twinkling tissue paper, stuffed in a striped, red gift bag. Poppop held the bag in his hand and slowly started unwrapping the gift. As he lifted the mason jar candle in his hand, a smile grew on his face.

"Claire," he said, voice lighthearted. "This is—"

"World peace," I finished, beaming. "I know it doesn’t look like the world—just some green and blue patches of paint with a peace sign in the middle—but if you light it, it might give you some peace. Not the world, but just you. I hope that’s enough."

Poppop hugged me, and I breathed in the warm smell of cologne. As he released, I watched a soft twinkle grow in his eyes. His blue and green eyes. "It’s perfect," he said. "You really got me world peace for Christmas."

"No, I didn’t," I said, laughing. "It’s a candle."

"Maybe," he replied. "But if it’s from you, it’s all I really could ask for."

And so was the Christmas of 2010, when I had given the greatest gift ever: a dusty old mason jar splashed in uneven shades of green and blue, with a jagged peace sign in the center. And a tealight candle dumped inside. World peace.

Okay, maybe it’s not the best gift I’ve ever given. But I think there is a certain magic, a certain feeling that exists only within the spirit of children during Christmas. At this age, I still believed in Santa Claus. I still left out cookies, drank eggnog, and wrote a wish list with every single American Girl Doll I wanted (I only got one, of course). Children do everything they can to cultivate and feel magic during Christmas, and one of the most beautiful things is when they do this through gift giving. When I brainstormed how I could give my grandfather world peace as a present, I took it as literally as possible. I thought and imagined with my heart, and therefore, I truly believed that what I had given Poppop was the best gift in the entire world.

Now, I give gifts that I don’t find in a random drawer of my basement. Maybe my family likes them better, but every now and then, Poppop will remind me of the Christmas when I got him world peace. The candle still sits on his bookshelf upstairs, and whenever I visit to spend the night, the little, nine-year-old part of me glows. He kept it. After all those years, all the laughter, and all the paint splatters on my skin, he decided that my tealight candle in a mason jar was worth keeping. Not because it actually was world peace, or because it was functional (because let’s face it, it wasn’t), but because it was from a nine-year-old who still believed in the spirit of Christmas—of magic, in all forms.

And sometimes, that is the best gift you can get.

Read other articles by Claire Doll

The gifts behind the tickets

McKenna Snow
MSMU Class of 2023

I am grateful for the many Christmas gifts I have received over the years, but one gift I received last Christmas was particularly special to me. To understand why it meant so much, though, a little backstory is needed.

I grew up on the many albums of John Mayer. His style was a little on the blues side, sometimes on the campy acoustic side. His lyricism was clever and original, and only a handful of his songs didn’t pass my and my mom’s "clean music" standards. This is significant, because John Mayer has released around nine albums; these days, I find it a rarity for a music star to have almost all clean songs in even a single album.

Nonetheless, John Mayer’s music was a familiarity for me that was helpful as I moved all around with my military family. In high school, his song "Neon" became a go-to on grocery runs with my mom (which often turned into trips to get sushi and plants). As I started learning how to play guitar, I grew in appreciation for his incredible talent. I’ve played guitar ever since and still am nowhere near being able to play "Neon," but I’m content with that; basic chords work for me since I prefer singing over playing fancy guitar riffs. Do I wish I could do both? Absolutely. Will I ever be able to? It seems unlikely, but that is okay. I’ll leave that to people like my brother, who actually have the patience and skillset to learn complicated guitar.

When I started dating my boyfriend in college, he had never listened to John Mayer. As we got to know each other and our interests better, John Mayer eventually came up as we decided on what music to play on drives. My boyfriend was attentive in getting to know what was primarily important in my life—my Catholic Faith, my family, friends—but he also payed attention to the secondary things that were important to me: coffee, writing, and music—John Mayer’s especially. He was interested in learning what songs were my favorite and about how it was something I have shared with my family for years.

Our second Christmas as a couple, 2021, my boyfriend handed me two gifts and said I could open either first. I unwrapped the first gift, and found myself holding St. Louis de Montfort’s "True Devotion to Mary." We already had talked about plans for the upcoming spring semester to complete a Marian consecration, and this book would be perfect for preparation for it. I can say with confidence that the Blessed Virgin Mary has had a significant role in our relationship, as praying the rosary together at school daily was a habit for us before he graduated from the Mount, and is still one of our favorite things to do when he visits. I have no doubt that she has listened to our frequent requests for her to pray for us to be holier, more virtuous, and more committed to loving Christ in our relationship. I was incredibly grateful for this book, which was a visible statement of our shared love for the mother of God. Then, I opened the second gift, and saw two tickets to a John Mayer concert in February.

To see John Mayer play "Neon" live? To get to hear the many songs I’ve grown up listening to, but this time, in person? I was so excited. Two months later, I went to this concert with my boyfriend, and it was one of the most special gifts I’ve ever received. It may sound shallow: "concert tickets are one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten!" But that isn’t the point. The significance of his gift that year was all the memories behind it: moments I shared with my mom in the car; playing cards with my siblings and John Mayer playing in the background; my brother being patient enough to teach me how to play a John Mayer guitar song even though it’s practically futile; explaining my favorite songs to my boyfriend on long, happy drives; him learning a John Mayer song on his guitar to cheer me up when I had a bad day; and my dad listening to all two hours of "Where the Light is" on an 8-hour car trip with me, even though he didn’t like John Mayer much at first—he just knew it was special to me. Each of these memories is beautiful in its own way, and these tickets show that behind one gift, there are often many others.

None of these gifts would be quite the same without Jesus and His mother. Behind all of our ordinary interests, there is the story of Mary’s maternal love carrying all of us. The relationships that made my gifts special would not be the same without everything she has taught me through her example in Scripture and the prayers I know she has prayed for all of us. Mary cares for us attentively, inspires hope in our hearts, and helps us orient even small gifts in our lives towards Christ. We bring Christ so much joy when we offer our hobbies and interests—even the simplest ones like enjoying a good John Mayer song—to Him with love.

For Jesus’ birthday, shower Him with gifts of gratitude for all the little blessings in your life. Let Mary teach you how. She received the Magi, who came offering gifts to her newborn son, and directed them to Him. This season and always, she wants to do the same for us as we seek Christ. Indeed, Christmas would not be the same at all without Christ’s Blessed Mother, who courageously brought Christ into the world. Through her "yes," humanity has been given the greatest Christmas gift: Jesus Himself. I am thankful for my many gifts at Christmas, and the ones I receive year-round, but at the heart of it all, I know they all originate in Jesus’ gift of Himself. Let "Glory to God in the highest" be your response this Christmas, knowing that all gifts, great and small, point back to Him. We have much to sing for joy about.

Read other articles by McKenna Snow

Read Past Editions of Four Years at the Mount