The Spirit of Christmas

I was 13 years old when my brother Eddie invited me to his girlfriend’s house to celebrate Christmas.

Now, just so you know — I didn’t really do Christmas back then. Not my religion...
To me, Christmas was mostly about one thing: time off school. And let’s be honest, at 13, that’s a perfectly acceptable life philosophy.

So when Eddie said, “You wanna come to my girlfriend’s place for Christmas?” I figured, Sure. Free food. Why not?

Little did I know… I was about to get a front-row seat to something much bigger.

From the moment I walked in, I knew I was somewhere I had never been before.

This was a big Quebecois family — the kind where “quiet” simply isn’t part of the vocabulary.
There was live music playing, people talking over each other in two languages, kids running around, and the kind of smells coming from the kitchen that make you instantly hungry…even if you just ate.

And here’s the thing — nobody asked me who I was, where I was from, or whether I belonged there.

They just welcomed me.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I remember thinking, Wow… this Christmas thing might have more to it than holidays and ugly sweaters.
There was something else in the room. Something you could feel.

✨ A spirit, maybe.

After an incredible meal — the kind where you loosen your belt and still say yes to seconds — it was time to open gifts.

I was perfectly content just watching.
Watching the kids.
Watching the laughter.
Watching the reactions.

I didn’t expect anything. I wasn’t there for anything.

And then… it happened.

Halfway through the gift opening, someone said my name.

My name.

I looked around, convinced there had to be another Herky in the room. (Statistically unlikely.)

But no.

There was a gift under the tree.
For me.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.
I just remember feeling this overwhelming mix of surprise, gratitude, and something I didn’t quite have language for yet.

These people barely knew me…
And yet, they made sure I wasn’t left out.

That moment stayed with me.

Fast forward about 30 years.

That night — that feeling — that unexpected generosity — never really left me.
It simmered. Quietly. Patiently.

And eventually, it turned into a song.

I wrote “The Spirit of Christmas” as a way of honouring that experience.
Not the presents.
Not the decorations.

But the feeling of being included.
Of belonging.
Of being welcomed simply because you’re there.

That, to me, is the real spirit of Christmas.

It’s what the sign represents.
My wife (a very wise woman - are you reading this Honey?) once said something that stuck with me:

“There are no small things.”

A “tiny” lie in your marketing often points to bigger truths hiding under the rug:

• Are you telling customers everything they need to know?

• Are you transparent with your staff?

• Are you honest with yourself about how the business is actually doing?

• Are you negotiating in integrity, or just hoping no one reads the fine print?

No organization brags, “We occasionally lie—just a little!”
(If they did, I’d attend their annual general meeting just for the entertainment)

So here’s my question for you:

Who could you include this season?
Who might need an invitation, a seat, a conversation, or simply to be remembered?

Because you never know —
what feels small to you today
might turn into someone else’s “Spirit of Christmas” story for the rest of their life.