A Gift Well Given

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The twelve days of Christmas have long since past, Dear Reader, and I know this post is late. But I hope you will afford me a little grace and allow me to share my insights from this holiday season nonetheless.

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By now, I am certain that you have at least heard of The Five Love Languages. The book, first released in 1992, outlines the five different ways we can show and receive love, and author Gary Chapman makes the argument that we all have our preferred method of the five. (This is where I must admit my first qualm with the book: every time I have taken a quiz to determine my love language, my results say I prefer all of them five equally. So it is either wrong that we have strong preferences for one of the languages, or I am a selfish and demanding love monster. The science is still out.) Since we as a culture have been introduced to the five different love languages, there has been an abundance of rhetoric around why Gift Giving is not an acceptable way to express love. I would go so far as saying that it is cliche to mock Gift Giving, as it is a ubiquitous stance from those who love Chapman's book. It is accepted that you should avoid those who prefer Gift Giving, as it means they are vapid and vain.

However, I would like to use these words in defense of Gift Giving. Too long it has been the black sheep of love languages, and it is overdue for a defense.

Being given a gift is a beautiful thing. I often feel childish when I try to explain to others why I enjoy giving and receiving gifts, but I think that is because gift giving reminds me of being a child. There is a magic and a wonder as you start to tear through the wrapping or dip your arm into the tissue paper. Even an unwrapped gift is a magical experience, as one moment there was nothing, and now without rhyme or reason there is something in your hands. Your heart leaps a little in your chest and maybe you want to squeal because you are now the owner of something that before you had only dreamed of. Once you reach adulthood, there are so few experiences that evoke true and unburdened joy, but receiving a gift is one of those few holdouts. It seems cheesy, but I am genuinely getting teary eyed as I write these words and am reminded of being a little girl and being beyond ecstatic to be given a new toy.

But the true reason I love presents is because a well given gift is actually the gift of being known. When you receive something you didn't explicitly ask for, it means the gift giver bought this because they knew you would like it. It means they understand your hopes, desires, dreams, past, present, and potential future. It feels awful to open a gift you don't like because it means that someone you care about grossly misunderstands you. You suddenly feel alone and have to question why someone would think this is who you are. And of course the opposite of this is the unparalleled joy of being given something that so perfectly encapsulates yourself that it means the gift giver sees you for who you are, and they love you for it. They have to love you completely for yourself, otherwise they wouldn't be giving you this gift. A gift well given has nothing to do with material goods and receiving something of monetary value. A gift well given means that you are known, loved, embraced, and, most importantly, not alone.

The most meaningful gifts I have ever received have truly brought me to tears upon opening them, as I have become completely overwhelmed with the knowledge that I am seen. The first time this happened was with a gift I received from my friend for my 23rd birthday. It was the height of the pandemic, and I had moved across the country a few months prior. I hadn't seen this friend, or anyone I cared about for that matter, for a very long time, and I was feeling alone and sad on this birthday. But then I opened the package my friend had sent. She had listened to my favorite podcast, in which the hosts will occasionally discuss whatever books they are reading, and then she sent me a collection of books that had been recommended on the show. I hadn't told anyone that I wanted to read these titles, but my friend knew me so thoroughly that I didn't have to tell her this. She already knew. And I cried because I was so happy to be cared for.

Gift Giving is not selfish or a cruel consequence of capitalism or an unjustified burden of holidays and birthdays. It is a beautiful expression of love for those we hold most dear. And I firmly believe this.

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Now, Dear Reader, I must find a way to tie this all back to the tv show Murder, She Wrote. I know it seems like I have abandoned my concept for this blog, but I promise my mission statement for Musings, She Wrote is intact. Allow me just a few more paragraphs and I will prove it to you.

This holiday season proved to be a tough one for me for various reasons. Nothing quite went as expected and there were many dark spots throughout the celebrations I took part in. But there were many kind and thoughtful gifts I received that made the days just a little bit easier. Each reminded me that I have beautiful relationships and many people in my corner. The gifts helped to get me through.

And there was one gift in particular that is relevant to us here, Dear Reader. From my lifelong friend, I was given 3 books from the Murder, She Wrote books series, a series I was completely unaware of and never would have sought out myself. But nonetheless, there was Jessica Fletcher starring back at me as I pulled my hand out of the gift bag. And once again, I was teary-eyed, as my friend, who does not care at all about Cabot Cove, gave me the gift of more Jessica. My friend knows me, and she sees me. And now I get to curl up with a dime store book and solve murders deep into the night.

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And so, I leave you with this parting thought, Dear Reader: I know that the holidays can be stressful. They can be lonely and sad and bring up memories that we would rather leave in the past. And on top of all of that, we have the added pressure of finding gifts for an ever increasing list of folks. But I encourage you to never forget why we give gifts. Remember the importance and meaning of a gift well given. And, if you can think of nothing else, go to Amazon. They have every book from the Murder, She Wrote series.