I have this notebook, you see (one of a gazillion because I like lists and such), and in it are ideas for gifts. Our closest family and friends are in there, as well as some random gift ideas I thought would be cool for anyone. And, starting right after my birthday at the end of August I begin deciding who will get what for CHRISTMAS. Last year, I actually handmade every. single. gift. And, it took me every day up until December 25th to finish them all. Then, there was Christmas. And, as I handed out the gifts that I had poured my heart and soul into - and even weeks - I watched every single facial expression as each gift was opened.
And, then I almost cried.
Because while my Father In Law loved the idea that I had made something just for him, and while my brother does NOT wear scarves but wouldn’t trade his to his best friend because his sister had made it for him and he loved it for that reason, and while my father couldn’t wait to tear into the homemade bread I baked him…there were some people whose faces dropped, who shoved the gift aside as if it was nothing more than a cotton ball among ribbons.
And, my heart broke. Because, last year… I made a LOT of gifts, each one of them were carefully thought into existence and then lovingly and painstakingly made. A lot of heart and soul went into each one. A lot of thought. And yet, by the end of Christmas I had sworn that NEXT YEAR, besides a few select people…everyone else could have Walmart gifts. It’s what they wanted, isn’t it? Some mass-produced unthoughtful gift that I threw into my cart on the way to the checkout line?