My wife just gave me the one of the
most precious gifts I have ever received. It came at great cost.
We were packing for a Christmas trip to see our distant family, a trip on which
we could bring few things. She was presenting me a gift before the holiday so I could take it
with me rather than pack the whole box.
The hopeful look in her eyes as she
held the box out to me, all beautifully wrapped, was melting. It said,
“Oh, I hope you like them. I got them specially for you. I love you
so much!” The look was strong enough that I was taken aback.
I opened the box. Inside was a pair of
slippers. Excellently made, warm, durable, good looking and
versatile, I knew she had thought long and shopped hard for them.
I never wear slippers. I
have two very serviceable pairs, both of which were well-meaning
gifts, but they are rarely on my feet. She actually bought these to replace my flip flops, which she detests. Admittedly they were getting ragged but in my view they still had a couple of summers left
in them.
I was concerned that we didn't have
money for these slippers and that they represented the beginning of a
Christmas which we cannot afford among people who can afford only to
give little. Every gift was going to put people into debt or cause
them to sacrifice.
I didn't know what to say. My wife's
love language is gifts, the joy she gets out of shopping for others
to find just the perfect present for them. She had bought these for
me, the man she loves and spent 32 years with. Money to her was the
least concern. She had always been responsible for our finances and
has handled them expertly. In her eyes this gift was very wise.
I remembered her look. I hesitated. My
love language is time, giving it and saving it. For me, the thought behind
the gift was always more precious than the gift itself. In fact, I didn't
want gifts. A heart-felt card or something very simple, even just a
loving hug, was always best.
I didn't want to hurt her feelings but
I had been earnest in my cautions about spending too much money. I
just started a new job. We haven't been paid yet. Our finances were
tight before my job ended and were much more so now. How could we afford gifts,
especially slippers?
And then I was a hit with a thought: Don't I trust her?
And then I was a hit with a thought: Don't I trust her?
I hesitated too long. She guessed; she
knew. I remembered the hopeful look I had seen in her eyes. Now her eyes held
hurt. Once again her look was melting. It now said, “You
don't like them. All that time and effort and I still got you the
wrong gift. I failed! You don't feel my love.”
I felt so guilty! We had not yet spoken, but volumes had been said. I knew I couldn't hide my feelings so I
opened my mouth and expressed them, gently. We talked for a good while. There
was hurt; there were tears. But I came away with a much better
understanding of who I am and who she is. I look at Christmas stories
and gifts now from the perspective of love languages and found new
interpretations for them. Every viewpoint has value; most are right
from a certain vantage point. I could never judge a present the same way again. Each is of equal value, cheap or expensive, appropriate or not. I would be
grateful.
I learned much from this conversation.
That learning was the gift she gave me. It came at great cost. But I
am eternally grateful for it, as I am for my loving wife, my great
friend who loves me in spite of pain.
Merry Christmas, Gorgeous. I am sorry for the pain. I love you!
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