meaning, or thanks, church!

This Advent, our church has promoted the idea of rejecting the commercialism of Christmas and embracing a simpler version of the holiday, one the focuses on Christ, spending less money, spending more time, and making Christmas more about being with others and doing for others rather than buying for others. I think the attitude is admirable and important, except that it gave Husband some ideas.
Do you think we should make each other presents? he asked on the way home from church a few Sundays ago.
Uh, I replied.
Well, it's something they talked about in church today. Making presents. So since we don't have money to get each other presents, we could just make something for each other, he explained.
My hesitation didn't stem from the idea of receiving a homemade present. I'm female, so I tend to like things that are homemade. I carried around a bag my sister made for me for a year until it broke from over use. I adore the quilt that Leighann and her mom made for Mr. Independent and each night when I tuck him in I ask, do you want me to cover you with your nice warm blanket, and he smiles and nods yes. So I don't mind receiving homemade gifts. I'm happy with pretty much any present I get. I'll be honest. I like presents. I'll be honest again. I felt kind of depressed when we realized that we didn't have the money to get each other presents. And then, my mom told us at dinner one night that my dad wanted to give us money to buy presents for each other, and I think we simultaneously realized that there's nothing we need. At that moment, I couldn't even think of anything tangible that I wanted. All of my wants were intangilbe: better control of finances, more fiscal responsibility, less stress about money, less stress about my job, the depression to go away, the ADD to get better or at least managable, for Mr. Independent to somehow manage to escape the depression and anxiety that has hit at least four generations of my family. And for whatever reason, despite these intangible and possibly unattainable wants, I felt contented at that moment when we explained to my mother that we'd really just prefer to not do presents with each other this year. I have a child who I adore to cliched degrees. He speaks and walks and does what average almost two year olds do. As yet his short, fat genes haven't kicked in. As yet, the depression and anxiety haven't kicked in. He's more interested in reading books than watching television (mee-mo being the exception). I have a husband who comes home every night and who I hope will continue to come home every night for the next 60+ years. He works hard at most of what he does, and he does it without complaining. I have a house-cold no matter the thermostat's setting, but it's more than a lot of people have. I am clearly well fed, and I have clothes to wear, access to books and cable television. I have a job and live in a city that I love. I belong to a church that actually challenges me. I have enough.
Husband and I went around in circles that Sunday in the car, discussing whether or not we should make each other gifts, and do homemade gifts really carry more meaning than store bought gifts. Case in point: I have spent hours making Husband cds over the years that he rarely, if ever listens to. I think he just hasn't liked the music I've put on them. But when I bought him the illustrated Elements of Style a few years ago, he brought it to his classroom for the rest of the year and even used it in some of his class activities. I'm not ready to write off store bought presents as meaningless, especially in our case. We never really made a decision.
But then, I started thinking of Husband not having anything to open on Christmas morning. I thought he probably wouldn't care, but I would feel sad not seeing him open anything from me. So I resolved to make something. I started mentally planning, working up the confidence to make something for someone who has stated over and over that he doesn't really like homemade gifts. Then I got mad at him. Not super mad, just a little annoyed, and decided that I didn't actually want to put effort into making him a gift that would seriously expose me-thoughts and feelings and the like-and that he'd probably hate. I resolved to NOT make him a gift and be content with seeing Mr. Independent rocking in the rocking chair that Santa will bring him. I'd be happy with the breakfast we'd cook together and the visit from family later that day. My mind was as contented as it gets, and I was self-satisfied and smug and a little spiteful thinking about how I wasn't going to have to spend hours laboring over a gift that exposed me (emotionally) that he'd have to fake gratitude for. That's where I was when he left for work yesterday afternoon. Hand on the door, he turned around and said, so, are we making each other presents or not?
If I hadn't given up swearing, I would have said the f-word then. But I have given it up, so instead I just said, I was going to make you something, but now I don't really feel like doing anything, so I'm not. Why, do you want to make each other presents?
It's up to you, came his infuriating reply.
No. I want it to be your decision.
Repeat as needed.
I'm not sure who finally decided that we'd make presents, but I spent three hours working on it last night, and so far another three this evening. I'm almost done, and I'm tired. The present has meaning, but I'm still worried that he'll hate it, then I'll hate myself for making it, for putting myself out there. I'm worried that he'll fake being happy, but he'll secretly wish I'd spent the $50 to buy MarioKart for Wii.
I know this is the sort of thing where I'm supposed to learn a lesson, something about the true meaning of Christmas and togetherness and love or other sappy sentiments, but I'm not sure I have. I know that I don't feel sad anymore when I look at the fireplace and see three empty stockings hanging, two of which will remain empty this year. I feel calm, and contented, and, I'll be honest, a little curious about what he's going to make for me.