News Photo by Julie Riddle Isaac Riddle, at 3 years old, grins joyfully over a stack of Christmas gifts in Delavan, Illinois in this photo taken in 2002.

ALPENA — My kids grew up hearing a lot of “No.”

Frugal by necessity and stubborn by habit, as a young mom I bucked against buying the toys hawked on TV or caving to the everyone-else-has-one mentality.

It’s not that I deprived my kiddos of gifts entirely. I love giving them things, as I’m able, and the Christmas tree skirt, most years, held a delightful pile of mysterious boxes and bows.

But, the stuff that guarantees the greatest happiness rarely lives up to its promise. Any toddler can attest that, no matter how fancy the gizmo, the box is infinitely more fun. With me as a mom, my kids got lots of boxes, but not too many of the gizmos on their hearts’ wish lists.

One afternoon, when my eldest was probably 7 or 8, I found him absorbed in a small device, pushing its tiny buttons and staring intently at its tiny screen.

I didn’t recognize the object, but he told me it was an electronic game he’d picked up at a garage sale down the block.

It didn’t work, he said, showing me its blank screen.

He’d been pretending to play a video game.

He didn’t have one, so it was the closest he could get to the real thing.

That Christmas, I instructed the kids to open the biggest box last.

As he knelt in front of the box and ripped the wrapping paper, Isaac gasped. He ripped some more, and then rocked back with joyous shouts, flinging his arms in the air and melting into the couch behind him, face flushed and eyes wet with tears.

Knowing the probability of a “No,” the kids had never asked, never whimpered in the toy aisle or sighed over commercials. But I knew they wanted the Wii game console all their friends gushed about.

That Christmas, I got to give them “Yes.”

It was probably a bit out of our price range at the time. But that patient boy, playing his pretend game with no complaint, convinced me to find a way to make the longed-for game appear under the tree.

I’ve no idea what became of the Wii console. It may be around the house somewhere, or, perhaps, years and technology advancements later, we dropped it off at a thrift store with a load of other unused items.

It did get some use in those first years. I loved listening to the kids’ giggles as they crashed their Mario Kart carts, and ― if I do say so myself ― I exhibited some pretty sweet moves along with the Just Dance dancers on family game nights.

Still, it was only a gizmo. One of many ways to find entertainment on a slow day. It was a fun thing, at least for a time, but still, just a thing.

I think, though, that that moment, captured on a video clip I can no longer find in my computer archives but can still see in my mind, encapsulated my favorite Christmas gift.

Joy.

Joy of the unexpected.

Joy of the yes.

Joy of sparkly lights and mysterious whispers and festooned lampposts as the world decides each year to revel in the magic it created for itself, decides to be happy in the middle of hurt and fear and anger that does not stop.

Joy of the surprise of a divine being who decides to be little and lowly just because He loves you.

Little joy that flutters at the sight of a mug of hot cocoa clenched between mittened hands.

And the throw-up-your-arms, fall-back-and-holler kind of joy that only comes a few times in a lifetime, if you’re lucky.

Rarely, but sometimes, a person gets to be the boy who wraps his arms around his face, laughs until he cries, and picks himself up, beaming, to exclaim over his gift.

Less often still, but sometimes, a person gets to be the person who offers that kind of joy.

That’s a gift that can warm a heart for a lifetime.