While crocheting last night, another random memory came to me. There is a long backstory to the memory, so I'll tell that story first.
My regular readers know that my mom, Harriet, was the only one of her siblings to marry. Because of that, my Uncle Bill and my Aunt Dot always gave us kids really good Christmas presents. In my childhood memories, Christmas was awesome! We always got great toys from Uncle Bill and Aunt Dot. We kids each got money to go to Harry's 5 and 10 cent store to buy presents for each other and Mommy and Daddy. Mommy often made us girls matching Christmas nightgowns. We got socks and underwear, candy, books and coloring books and crayons. There were always new outfits for Christmas day, and new dress shoes. I thought we were the luckiest kids in the world.
My best friend from first grade to sixth grade I'll call Gertrude to protect her identity. Every year on Christmas day, she would call me to tell me what she got for Christmas. In her family, new bicycles, or Barbie Dream Homes were the kinds of presents they got. I was always excited for her, and excited to talk about what gifts I had received. I never felt jealous, or like her gifts overshadowed mine.
When I was in fifth grade, my mom went back to work full-time. There was more money after Mom and Dad were both working full-time, and the Christmas that I was in sixth grade, my parents had enough money to buy us some big family presents. They bought us a stereo, and a sewing machine. It was super exciting, as we all loved music, and my older sister and I were loving learning to sew.
Christmas morning, as soon as we got up, my mother asked me when I was going to call Gertrude and tell her about our big presents. I wasn't thinking about calling Gertrude at all, and I really hated to call someone to brag about Christmas presents, but Mom looked so disappointed, I made the call.
Even though I was only eleven years old, I realized my mother had felt bad every year when Gertrude called and talked about her gifts. Harriet had carried a hurt around that she never needed to. I never felt like I didn't get good gifts, or have great Christmases, but Harriet felt like she wasn't providing for her children as well as Gertrude's parents were.
Where am I going with this?
I never told my mom that she had nothing to feel bad about. I realized that she felt bad, but I didn't know how to tell her that I was fine.
I feel sad that Harriet didn't realize that while I loved getting presents, what was most important to me was the whole family being together, and the love we shared.
Remembering this story reminded me of something very important.
We never know what can make another person feel less than, or feel like they are disappointing someone. It is really important to tell people how much you appreciate them. How special the things they do are. How their presence in your life is the only gift you really need.
We're all carrying around our own special bag full of our sense of inadequacy. All the positive self talk in the world never seems to empty the bag.
So, in honor of Harriet, I want you all to know that all I need from the people I love is that they are present in my life.
And also in honor of Harriet, I'm going to do the very best I can to let people know that they are not a disappointment to me. That they are exactly perfect how they are.
Because the things you can buy are never as important as the gift of your time. And the gift of your attention. And the best gift I can give to anyone is my assurance that they are exactly perfect in all their imperfection.
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