Today, I’m bringing back one of my all-time favorite Christmas memories — a story some of you may remember from an earlier season of the podcast. And even if you’ve heard it before, it’s one of those stories that’s worth hearing again.
It has absolutely nothing to do with running… but everything to do with unmet expectations, perspective, and the kind of unexpected gifts that only make sense when you look back.
And honestly, it just might shift the way you see moments that don’t go the way you hoped.
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The Christmases of My Childhood
When I was growing up, our family had several Christmas gatherings we kids looked forward to every year. Christmas Eve at my Aunt Carol’s house was the big kick-off — and for many years, the absolute highlight.
We spent the entire day waiting for our out-of-town cousins to arrive. Hours felt like days. The moment they walked through the door the party could finally begin.
Aunt Carol and Uncle John had the tallest Christmas tree I had ever seen. It towered in their two-story great room — which, in my young mind, was the peak of sophistication. If you had a two-story great room, you had made it.
And then… there was the food. The same menu every year. Sloppy Joes (which I did not enjoy but was required to have on my plate), potato chips, green jello pear salad, Grandma’s homemade fudge, and if the stars aligned, cheesecake. There was always RC Cola — and if you were very lucky — an entire can to yourself without sharing with your little brother.
But honestly, for us kids, the food was just a barrier between us and the good stuff.
Because nothing — and I mean nothing — compared to Aunt Carol’s gift.
Each cousin received the same present, year after year. And somehow, she nailed it every single time.
This was the late 70s and 80s — Sears Catalogue era, Montgomery Ward, Service Merchandise… hours of flipping through toy pages, circling favorites, dreaming big. No Amazon. No online shopping. KMart was about as glamorous as it got.
And yet, Aunt Carol always came through with something you’d never expect… but instantly loved. As a kid, it felt like she had a direct line to the North Pole.
Later, I learned the truth:
She and Uncle John were regulars at the local auction. They bought in multiples. Bulk gifts before bulk buying was even a thing. In my mind, it wasmagical.
Two gifts stand out as legendary.
The first:
Blue sleds.
Fast. Light. Indestructible. The kind of sled that turned every hill into the Winter Olympics. We wore those sleds out. Literal cracks from years of joyful abuse.
The second:
Bean bag chairs.
Peak 80s luxury. We dragged them all over the house. There’s even a photo somewhere of all of us stretched out in our bean bags, living our best lives.
These were iconic gifts. They set the standard.
And then… came the year of the dictionary.
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The Gift That Lives in Infamy
We sat in that living room, full of anticipation, ready for another unforgettable group gift.
And what did each of us unwrap?
A Webster’s Dictionary.
Our own personal dictionary.
Silence.
Blinking.
Side-eye.
Confusion.
We were stunned.
Was it a joke?
It was not.
The disappointment was real. After sleds and bean bags, this felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. It was, in every possible way, the epitome of unmet expectations.
And yet…
Here we are, decades later, still talking about it.
Even though Christmas Eve with all of us cousins together hasn’t happened in decades, I am positive that this story is told in at least one of our homes each year. We laugh. We tease. We remember. The cousins confirm we all used ours — some academically, some as makeshift window props in un-air-conditioned bedrooms.
Nearly 40 years later, that dictionary is still one of the most memorable gifts any of us ever received. It bonded us in a way no sled or bean bag ever could.
What felt like a disappointment became the story we carry forward — joyfully, together.
From that perspective?
The dictionaries might have been the best gift she ever gave us.
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Unmet expectations often feel heavy in the moment.
Sometimes even painful.
When something doesn’t go the way we imagined it would, our minds fill in the blanks with disappointment, frustration, or that familiar sense of “this is not what I signed up for.” We feel the sting of it right away. And in the middle of that moment, it’s almost impossible to imagine that anything good could come from it.
But later — sometimes much later — you get enough distance to look back and see something you couldn’t see before. You notice the unexpected gift hidden inside it. The kind you never would have chosen, but somehow needed.
Maybe it was a relationship that came into your life only because the original plan didn’t work out.
Maybe it was a door that opened precisely because another one slammed shut.
Maybe it was a moment that stretched you, humbled you, or shaped you into someone wiser, stronger, or more grounded.
These are the kinds of gifts you can only recognize from the rearview mirror.
When we reach midlife, like many of us have, we suddenly have enough life behind us to start connecting the dots. We can look back and see that some of the things we were devastated over not getting… would have actually kept us from something far better. Something more aligned. Something we couldn’t have imagined at the time.
This perspective doesn’t erase the disappointment, but it does soften it.
It creates breathing room.
It helps us loosen our grip on the idea that things must go exactly as planned.
It teaches us to stay open — open to possibility, open to timing we don’t control, open to the fact that clarity often comes after the fact, not before.
So here’s my gentle challenge for you this week:
Think of one time in your past when you didn’t get what you wanted…
and not getting it ended up being a gift.
A turning point.
A blessing in disguise.
Let that memory be evidence for your future self. Let it shape the way you move through your next unmet expectation — whether it’s something small in your daily routine or something big in this season of your life.
What if the disappointment you feel right now is not the ending…
but the beginning of something better than you knew to hope for?
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Alright friend, thank you for being here with me today.
Take this idea with you this week: sometimes the gift isn’t in the moment itself — it’s in what the moment becomes over time.
If this story made you smile or gave you something to think about, I’d love for you to follow the show so you never miss an episode. And if someone in your life would appreciate this conversation, feel free to share it with them.
You can find more at trishastanton.com, including coaching info and ways to connect.
Have a great week and a wonderful Christmas.
And remember… your mindset matters.
