Mobs of red-faced shoppers wrestled each other to be the first to get the best price on highly-desired goods for the holiday season the morning after many families stuffed their faces at their Thanksgiving feasts. This year, I realized that I didn’t need a single bit of that to be happy.

We shop for clothes a little more than twice a year. That’s all I usually ever ask Santa for. Clothes and school supplies. And even then, every purchase my parents make for my sake makes me cringe. I know what my parents would have to sacrifice in order to give me the newest iPhone, get me the nicest shoes or even simply get my laptop cleaned.

I consider myself one of the luckiest girls in the world.

Back when my mother was raising my two brothers and me, we would sometimes spend nights at relatives’ houses until we had enough money to rent an apartment. We lived off of welfare checks and charity, plus Church’s Chicken leftovers from my then 15-year-old brother’s work. In every picture of me back then, I always had a giant grin on my face.

When my father found steady work in the Metroplex, we all moved to Garland. Pretty soon, my parents started throwing toys my way. I loved getting toys. I was indifferent about playing with them, though.

After toys started meaning nothing to me, I thought Christmas was going to feel empty. Instead, the voices and laughter of my small family echoing though the house made me realize I’d give up all of my possessions just to have what really matters most.

This year, I’m not asking my parents for anything. Instead, I’m going to give something to all those who are my friends and even to some who aren’t. Christmas joy isn’t about getting the iPad or headphones you’ve been waiting however long to get; it’s about sharing with those around you, reflecting on all the blessings in your life and making an effort to give back. Whether by giving some small amount of change or kindness, I know I can make a big difference to someone out there who isn’t as fortunate as me.