Small Gifts

I had to sort of relearn an old lesson recently.

A week ago Sunday was my birthday. The husband and I had an agreement that there'd be no presents. We just bought a refrigerator and I want to go on a weekend trip next month, so I didn't want to spend the money. It's better that way anyway. I learned with my husband long ago that he gets really stressed out picking gifts. That used to mean that he'd overthink it and I wouldn't get anything. The first few years, I found this royally upsetting. But then, I realized that I'd rather have someone who is thoughtful every other day of the year than someone who makes a big deal once a year. My husband is the kind that gets down on the floor and plays with the kids, the kind who folds laundry without complaining, and the kind who'll take my car to get washed just because. I've learned to really appreciate that sort of generosity of spirit.

Most of my friends have switched to email and ecards. Which is fine, I do it too. But there's nothing to open. And I'm sort of a bit over-the-top about my birthday and I love to have a present to open.

But, because of that, I was sort of counting on my family to come through with birthday acknowledgements--presents, cards, the like. First was a call from my mother-in-law, letting me know that she was sending me something, but it'd be a little late. But there was still my parents and sister, right? Saturday's mail came and went, with no cards, no presents, no anything.

I admit it, I let it get to me. In fact, I sort of got in a funk about it. So when they called on my actual birthday, I didn't pick up the phone and talk to them. It was such an immature thing to do and honestly, it didn't make me feel any better. But I was nursing my little hurt. I am not at all proud of how I felt and how I let it affect me.

And then birthday night, my girlfriend who I was hoping would go to Santa Fe with me had to beg off. Husband said he'd go, but that meant lining up a babysitter for the weekend. His parents are willing to help, but they're in their 80s now and two active boys for four days is just too much. I had talked to my mom about it and she said she could probably come, but it turned out she had a conflict she had forgotten. So it looked like the must-anticipated trip was a no-go.

And then the phone rang. "I'll come and babysit." So declared my recently-retired father. "You know I don't cook and I don't do laundry or make beds or do dishes, but I do drive and I can get them places on time. If they can eat at IHOP or the fried shrimp place all weekend, I'm your sitter."

And it was so sweet. It seriously almost brought tears to my eyes--that he was willing to drop everything and come down just because he wanted me to be able to do something I wanted to do. And I realized yet again that I am surrounded by people in my life who are warm and caring and thoughtful, and really that's my gift. Not some box with a pretty bow, with yet another pair of earrings.