I love getting gifts. I think all of us do....even if we don't admit it. We play the "you don't have to get me anything" card when secretly we are hoping for the newest, greatest, most amazing gifts and gadgets. I love gifts...I love everything about gifts...both the giving and the receiving. But, let's be honest, I really like receiving gifts (you do too, get off your high-horse!) Now as an adult, I don't get nearly as many gifts as I would like. There's too many kids in front of me in the gift-receiving line...and I was taught that it isn't polite to budge or push kids down.
My hubby and I don't exchange gifts for Christmas, anniversary, or other silly holidays...and most of the time, he prefers to go without on his own birthday since it is shortly after Christmas, and, let's face it, we were usually out of money. However, he insists on getting me birthday gifts and has always done pretty well in that department, I have to say. He does a great job at making my "day" a big deal (I think it's because I'm older than him...and he's just rubbin' it in a little). So kuddos to the hubby...he definitely gets a gold star for his birthday-present prowess. However, there is one gift that I have received that always sticks in my head...and it didn't come from my hubby (and there are some pretty great birthday gifts from which I could choose). This particular gift came in the mail - actually the post-man brought it to my door because it didn't fit in the mailbox - as a a plain box on an ordinary day...not my birthday, not a holiday, not my anniversary. Weird.
Let me backtrack for a second. At this time in our lives, we were very much "down on our luck", to say it nicely. Necessities were hardly met so anything that wasn't of the utmost importance didn't get purchased. It wasn't even considered. Very often, our suppers consisted of water and wish sandwiches. You know...2 buttered pieces of bread slapped together and called a sandwich. We "wished" there was something in the middle! Most often in times like these, it was mom and dad that went with out...and that's how it should be. But that doesn't mean that we still didn't have wants (and sometimes needs) that couldn't be met and had to be ignored.
Enter "the box". It was addressed to me...from my mom. OK. It had to be something for the boys...that makes sense. Grandmas always send their grand babies little out-of-the-blue gifts. So when I opened the box nonchalantly, and then casually looked inside...I was shocked, floored, taken aback, in a state of awe! That box was filled...filled, stuffed, almost overflowing...with socks, socks and more socks...for me! I was so excited! Currently I was juggling between 4 or 5 pair of socks all falling apart, full of holes and disintegrating from the shear number of times they had been washed. But socks for parents were considered a luxury...the cost of which surely could feed us for 1 or 2 meals...so replacing said torn and tattered socks was not an option. That is until my mama sent me an unexpected, completely thoughtful, absolutely needed box full of socks...that brought me to tears with appreciation, excitement and gratitude.
A simple gift...a simple deed...a simple moment...that met a simple need.