I am horrible with words but better with gifts (so long as they are written).
Today, Matthew and Audrey turn fifteen. Like many fathers, what their presents are will be as much of a surprise to me as it will be for them.
I don’t often think in terms of objects. There’s little that I want, and when I do, I don’t usually wait for special occasion but obtain in the moment when I see its purpose and can be used.
But then, when special days and occasions come, I panic—short or clueless on ideas for gift.
That said, absent physical present, I gave what I know.
I wrote them letters, Bridgette too, telling in short and so many words reasons, ways, and why I love uniquely each of them. I wrote, too of hopes I have for them, and us, for this year and future ones to come.
To be seen and noticed, cared about—and to be shown—doesn’t everyone want this? Gifts of this are the ones that always hit me most, and the ones I try to give. Rarely are they purchased but lived and shown and made in their own unique and personal ways—letters, moments, memories… time and spirit shared.
These are the gifts I try and give. So I write, share, and show in love language that I know.
