I tried the silky texture of a peppermint flavored creamer and thought, "I need to get more of this."

I pulled on my first pair ever of chenille socks, and simple pleasure of wearing them had me thinking, "I need to get more of these."


The thing is, it's always "more" that I want. I did not stop after that first sip of peppermint-laced coffee and enjoy the taste, and I was not content to just wiggle my toes in those luxurious socks. We pulled the Christmas decorations out today, and I had a moment of realization as I placed the ornaments on the tree.

I ran my hands over the tin soldiers and rocking horses that Aunt Brenda painted, the Norwegian rosemaling from my Grandma wishing me "God Jul", and did not want more. They were always my most favorite ornaments growing up, and when I was old enough to have my own tree, my mother passed them along to me. As I hung Nick's collection of ornaments on the tree, he'd try to guess, "My grandma made that for me in...1982?" There is one from what must be every year of his childhood and then some.

I am sure I could search online for hand-painted ornaments, Norwegian Christmas rosemaling, or those with hand-stitching, but we have all we need: we have a lifetime of love hanging on the tree. That's enough. In a world of want, this time of year strikes me as rife with fulfillment.