Whether you are
a Christian or not, it is impossible to ignore
the frantic
gift-giving/receiving/contemplating/hunting/gathering/chasing that sweeps the
land at this time.
And would you
want to? I do my version of it and enjoy every bit.
Giftation, or Giftatis,
take your pick. It’s in the air, and I’m not holding my breath. I’m taking it
in.
But I got to thinking
what makes a gift really great. For me, it turns out to be the same whether on
the giving or receiving end of it. It has to do with purpose and thought. If
something I do involves concentrating on the person and their needs, it is fulfilling.
If I sense the same in something I’m given, it is rewarding.
Generic does
nothing for me.
We say, “it’s
the thought that counts,” and mean the gift was a dud, but at least the giver
thought about us. I think this saying is a dud.
A good gift
conveys the thought was directed and specific. I can feel the joy that went
into it, and this joy is akin to the joy I have experienced giving in the same
way.
A long time ago,
in what could have been a galaxy far away, a little boy who knew I had always
wished I had an older brother growing up, made me an older bother. He made my
older brother by drawing him, almost life size, and giving him a birthday,
(three years older than me) and a face. His name is “Mirka’s Older Brother,”
and he hangs inside my closet and greets me every day to start my day right.
It didn’t cost;
it was all thought. That little boy was my son, way back in kindergarten.
His little
sister, not yet four at the time, taught herself to draw what she knew was my
favorite animal. She practiced feverishly on hundreds of pieces of paper until
she felt she had it.
She gave mom a pet no one else had.