The other day, I caught myself getting irritated because an Amazon package didn’t arrive when it was supposed to.
Not days late.
Not weeks late.
Just later than I expected.
As ridiculous as it sounds, it made me stop and wonder what has happened to us.
Because I come from the Sears Wish Book generation.
Every year, sometime in the fall, the Sears Wish Book would arrive like magic. It wasn’t just a Christmas catalog. It was an event. The moment it landed in our home, everything else seemed to stop. We would carry that enormous book into the living room, spread it across the floor and spend hours turning its pages.
We didn’t scroll.
We dreamed.
We circled toys until the pages were covered with ink. We folded corners. We studied every possibility and debated which one thing we wanted more than anything else. We knew we probably weren’t getting everything on those pages—and somehow, that made the dreaming even sweeter.
There was something beautiful about waiting.
Waiting for Christmas.
Waiting to see if Santa had noticed.
Waiting to discover whether that one special gift might actually appear beneath the tree.
Today’s world doesn’t ask us to wait.
When we want something, we tap a button. When shipping takes longer than expected, we grow impatient. When something isn’t immediately available, we move on to the next option. Convenience has become one of modern life’s greatest luxuries.
But I wonder if we have accidentally traded anticipation for instant gratification.
Because anticipation was part of the joy.
The waiting made Christmas feel bigger.
The wondering made hope feel real.
Maybe that is why memories of the Sears Wish Book have stayed with so many of us for decades. It was never really about the toys. It was about believing. It was about possibility. It was about sitting beside a brother or sister, a parent or grandparent, imagining what Christmas morning might look like.
The Sears Wish Book gave us permission to dream long before Christmas ever arrived.
Today, our children and grandchildren can have almost anything delivered within a day or two.
But I wonder if they are missing the magic of longing for something.
The excitement of counting down.
The lesson that not every good thing has to happen immediately.
I still love technology. I appreciate the convenience. And yes, I will probably order from Amazon again this week.
But I am also thankful I grew up in a generation that knew how to wait.
A generation that understood that some of life’s sweetest moments happened before we ever opened the gift.
Sometimes I think the Sears Wish Book wasn’t really selling toys.
It was quietly teaching us patience.
It was teaching us gratitude.
It was teaching us hope.
And maybe—just maybe—that is why so many of us remember it with tears in our eyes, even when we can no longer recall the toys we actually received.
Because what we really miss isn’t the catalog.
It is the feeling.
And that is something no two-day delivery can ever bring to our front porch.
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