There is something about the soft, steady glow of a Christmas tree.

Have you ever taken the time to notice?

Christmas trees can tell a story all their own.

No matter what city, what town you may live in, if you were to walk past the windows of each and every home on any given block, you would see that no two stories are quite the same.

In some living rooms, the trees stand tall, triumphant.

The floor beneath is nearly hidden from view.

These are the homes where wrapped boxes are stacked high.

Each gift contains a curled ribbon and bows to add to the anticipation.

Tags are just waiting to be read. Aloud and with delight.

It is in these homes, these windows, with these trees, where the joy of the season is measured in abundance.

And if you pause to listen closely, you may be able to hear the laughter of children inside. Their echoes bouncing against the walls — walls that are already lined with happy memories despite it not yet being Christmas day.

It is a beautiful scene.

One of bounty and blessing.

But not every tree tells that same story.

In other homes, through other windows, there is another kind of tree.

Its branches are dressed with ornaments lovingly saved from years gone by.

Faded glass bulbs, handmade crafts from school days past adorn this one.

And yet, there are only a few packages that rest beneath the boughs.

Perhaps there is a sweater that has been purchased for a son.

For he outgrew his clothes last winter and the impending forecast is always quite cold in December.

Perhaps under their tree is a book that was bought for a daughter.

Simple, yet a gift for which she will be grateful and one that will pass the time on dark winter days when she is lonely.

Or maybe what lies beneath these branches is a simple tin of homemade cookies.

Cookies that were baked for a neighbor who might stop by to offer their holiday wishes to the family living inside.

It is here the gifts are fewer.

However, the meaning is no less profound.

Sometimes, a Christmas gift can simply be the gathering, itself.

A chance where families, friends, those we love can sit together, share a meal and remember that presence can matter more than presents.

Farther down the street lies another home.

Another window.

Inside, a beautifully decorated tree.

Each ornament methodically placed.

However, a closer look inside tells another story entirely.

A family who finds themselves once again, bypassed by Santa.

It is not because they don’t believe.

They have more belief than most.

It is because life has a ruthless way of rearranging priorities.

We all know these families.

We know these neighbors.

We are these neighbors.

We are these families.

The bills must be paid.

December is not the month to go without heat, electric or water.

Groceries must be bought.

The mortgage is already past due.

But they took to the time to make their tree the best it could be because Christmas comes but once a year.

And it is, after all, the birthday of Jesus.

This tree reflects how hard the family tries.

Not just in how they decorate the tree or their home, but in how they try to make ends meet every single day of the entire year.

Despite their efforts, there is never any “extra” to spend on Christmas.

For these families, the choice is clear … responsibilities come first.

Gifts are second.

Or sometimes, not at all.

And yet, that realization is no less heavy on your heart.

I know this better than most.

It is never easy to explain to your child — even when they are an adult — why the tree is bare.

Why the stockings hang empty.

There are times when the choice has to be made to instead keep the lights on, to keep the roof over your head.

And that, too, is a gift — though it comes without wrapping paper. Without bows. Without tags.

These homes, these windows, these trees … they are the ones which echo the profound truth of the season: The greatest gift was never wrapped in ribbons.

The greatest gift was wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

Consider the single mother working two or three jobs.

Her paycheck is already stretched thin.

So, she buys one toy, maybe two.

And she hopes more than anything she has ever hoped that her little one will not notice the difference between her tree and the neighbor’s.

Consider the retired couple who is living on a fixed income.

They choose to send cards to their friends, their family, rather than gifts.

Their handwritten words carry the weight of love that they simply cannot afford to package.

And then, there are those families who choose to give in other ways.

A homemade soup delivered to a friend recovering after being hospitalized.

A phone call made to someone who is lonely.

A prayer whispered for those who are struggling in silence.

These are gifts which go unseen.

And yet, they are the ones that matter deeply.

They remind us that giving is not always about what can be bought at the mall or a store.

Giving is about what can be shared … just as Jesus shared himself with the world.

Freely and completely.

And then there are times when something happens and you find yourself on the receiving end of a gift.

An unexpected gesture.

What happens when we are given a gift and cannot afford to give one in return?

Well, I believe the answer is simple.

I believe it is simpler than our pride often allows us to believe.

We should accept their gift with gratitude.

We should let our “thank you” be warm and sincere and unhurried.

We should remember that most people give simply because it brings a happiness to their heart that cannot be explained.

They are not expecting anything in return. It is merely the act of giving, itself.

For a moment, let yourself feel loved.

Allow the gift to remind you that you matter.

And if you want to give something back in return?

Let it be kindness.

Let it be a prayer spoken on their behalf.

Those are the gifts which cost nothing.

And yet, they carry such immeasurable worth.

These are the gifts which mirror the spirit of Christ.

Christmas is not a competition of boxes and bows.

It is a mosaic of moments.

Some are bright.

Some are quiet.

Some are heavy with sacrifice.

For every home, every window, every tree that is filled with abundance … there is another where the gift is simply endurance.

And perhaps that is where the true spirit of the season lives.

It lives in the resilience of families who choose to celebrate what they have.

Even when what they have is only enough in which to get by.

Let us remember: Christmas is about Jesus.

Born in a humble manger.

Without riches or wrapped packages.

He came as the greatest gift of all — love, hope, salvation.

That truth can steady us when the tree is bare.

When Santa passes us by.

When bills outweigh bows.

For in Bethlehem long ago, love arrived … unwrapped.

And it remains with us … still.

Whether your home is filled with abundance or only with endurance, may you find peace in knowing that the heart of Christmas is not measured in presents.

It is measured in presence.

The presence of Christ.

The presence of love.

The presence of grace that carries us through.

No matter what story your tree may tell, I wish for you all the merriest Christmas possible.

(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)