Some people are born with a knack for gift giving. They intuitively know what others would enjoy, what would bring a smile to their faces.
My grandmother had a knack for giving gifts and so do our daughters.
Our son has a knack for giving good gifts, though he’s never been one to plan ahead. For a number of years he would give us something he had painted. The catch was remembering to ask if the paint was dry.
It seems the knack for giving good gifts can skip a generation. I’m never entirely sure the gift I’ve chosen is something the recipient will be excited about. Will he like it? Will she enjoy it? Maybe I’ll just enclose the gift receipt in the box and save them the embarrassment of asking.
A gift that sent one of the toddler grands over the moon a few years ago was a box of Captain Crunch. The tot tore into it and began eating cereal by the handful on the spot. Her aunt was positive it would be the perfect gift and it was.
Oh, that all gift-giving dilemmas could be resolved on the cereal aisle.
My parents had an incredible knack for giving good gifts.
Apparently, they still have the knack even though they’ve been gone 10 years plus.
Our oldest daughter has been using a rickety, hand-me-down sewing machine with uneven stitches and erratic tension. She’s been dropping hints for several years that she’d like a new one.
Rummaging through important papers this fall, she found a U.S. savings bond my dad had given her years ago.
She found the bond on Dad’s birthday.
It was at full maturity. The amount was exactly enough to pay for a sewing machine she’s had her eye on.
He would have liked that. He would have folded his arms across his chest, leaned back, grinned and claimed he’d planned it from day one.
What a wonderful gift, given years ago, just waiting to be found, waiting to be opened, waiting to be used and enjoyed.
We rack our brains for gift ideas this time of year, often overlooking the most wonderful gift right in front of us. It’s the gift lying in the manger, the infant Jesus, God in the flesh. The gift was given more than 2,000 years ago. Yet it is still here, silently waiting — to be found, received and enjoyed.
The perfect gift.
Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Reach her at email@example.com.