When I was a little girl my elementary hosted the book fair every year before Christmas break. They always sold little figurines or ornaments in addition to books and I would always save a few bucks to do my Christmas shopping. Every year I had enough for two gifts and every year I bought two gifts one for my parents and the other for my sister. Even then, I knew that my sister’s love language was receiving gifts. Every year I would study the figurines and ornaments before picking the two I would spurge on and then I would go home and wrap them satisfactorily putting them under our tree. In my child’s heart I imagined the joy that my recipients would express when opening my gifts… The first year my sister opened the gift I saw the disappointment in her face, but I thought I had just chosen the wrong figurine. However, the years that followed she would open my gifts while saying, “I don’t know why, I even open these when I know how lame they are.” Sometimes, I would have her open both thinking that perhaps she would like one of the two ornaments I was gifting, but every year I never got it right.
Now when I go thrifting and I find ornaments I think about who gifted the wrong figurine in hopes of brightening another person’s day. What little child went to her book fair and instead of buying something for herself spent all she had on another? I think of the millions of gifts that were wrong and end up in a pile of rescue me from the landfill. I have learned that I cannot take all of them home, but every Christmas season I end up with a couple more saved ornaments that make the little girl in me exceedingly happy! This has turned into a collection- a religious ornament collection. Some are worth a pretty penny because they are glass-blown, hand-painted by renowned artists and others are probably still found in book fairs across the country.
Every year when I take out my ornaments, I study each one and it sends all sorts of happy into my body. Each one is special to me and each one for the most part has been rescued from the landfill. I have pieces from some of the top ornament designers that survived not being wanted and have found a home in my tree. This year as I put up my tree I was afraid that Francis would knock it down confusing my ornaments for toys, but so far, he has shown little interest in my little pleasures. This year while I put them up my sister said, “Wow, we have so many really nice ornaments…” And that put the biggest smile on my face!
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