Although I first felt guilty, it ended up being fun.

My eldest son longs for my Kindle, which is a software and hardware platform used to read e-books and other digital media. When a lucky bit of side work meant I could buy a new one, I decided to give him mine – not for everyday, but for Christmas. Another of the older sons admired a great vintage coat in an Army Navy store. His present will be a coat that could see a soldier through a Swedish winter: Before I was born, it was made to do just that and it looks almost new.

On Craigslist, one woman had for sale a slew of baby food jars, the big kind that hold junior foods. I got those for free. For one dollar, I got swatches of fabric squares cut out with pinking shears. I don’t have to worry much about the lids. They’ll be holding honey inside. And honey, as anyone who watches The Discovery Channel knows, is the one food that never spoils. Edible honey has been found in the tombs of the Pharaohs. The honey, culled from the hives at my friend’s farm in Fiji, will make terrific gifts – for about 50 cents a pop.

Though she’s only 13, an acquaintance made some warm-and-crazy hats and scarves for my work acquaintances.

A beautiful vase once purchased at a charity auction and never used looked like just the thing to hold the flowers my beloved friend Anne loves to keep on her tables. Author friends have given me more than one signed book, for free. I kept one and sent one down the line to another great pal, whose first novel will be published this year. I’d gotten two pairs of gloves in exactly the right color to go with my winter coat, for fear that color might go away one day. But knowing someone else who loved that color, too, I gave one pair of gloves to her.

All in all, I probably spent a few hundred dollars on holiday gifts – far, far less than I had for the past decade. And instead of a catered open house, I am going back to the old tradition: One pal brings the mashed potatoes; I stuff the turkey; my sister-in-law contributes her to-die-for dip.

It took a real stumble in the road – losing all my savings, having my novel do well, but not as well as it should have – to remind me that “dear” doesn’t equal “new,” not always and maybe not ever. I gave what I gave with love and hope for a better time. Which, at the end of the day, is the best gift of all.