The Test

Here's how I see it.  It is only sort of a test.  That is because one can't really fail it.  It is more a test to see what they see. 

I'm referring to the art of gift giving.  

I love buying gifts for others.  Especially those I dearly love.  I like to make a list, ponder it, make notes, ask questions, ponder further and then decide on what I think is the perfect gift for them.  The gift that will make them smile.  The gift that will show them I know them pretty well and spent time and effort to choose something great. It isn't so much about the amount of money, but the item itself.  A lot of pressure?  Nah.  Mostly because I love this activity. 

When it comes to receiving gifts, I'm not going to lie, this is fun as well.  I do not expect to receive gifts and I am not hurt when I do not, but I certainly enjoy seeing what others have chosen for me when they choose to do so.  But my most favorite gifts to receive are those from Jason.

This is where the test comes to in.  What does Jason think of when he thinks of me?  Running?  Laughter?  Shiny things?  Nose in a book?  Snuggled up on the couch with a movie?  A red sweater?  A warm scarf?  A scent?  Does he know my favorite things?  Books, songs, socks (I really do love socks), brightly colored hats to wear when running in the cold, new games for my DS.  And when he puts all the information he knows about me together, what does it lead him to choose when it is time to make that purchase and put it under the tree?  

Maybe I'm making it more complicated and meaning-filled than it is...but I'm a girl.  It is what we do.  And I see meaning in the gift chosen for me.  I see meaning in how much time was spent.  The proof that he thought about me when I wasn't around, that he took time out of his schedule to do something nice for me.  To shop (which in itself is a big deal). 

So I still approach Christmas just like I did when I was little.  I wake up Christmas morning earlier than usual.  I slip on my bedroom shoes and make my way downstairs or down the hall at a faster pace than on a normal morning. I am impatient with those who do not move as quickly as I do.  And don't even think about suggesting that we eat breakfast first.  I love all the brightly colored packages.  I love handing out the gifts I've chosen and I look upon those chosen for me with excitement.  Because it means someone thought of me.  This someone probably loves me, and they spent their time and money to show me. 

So maybe it isn't about the gift at all.  The old saying may be true after all:  It is the thought (and the love behind it) that counts.