p.s. I love you
I was doing some eleventh-hour Christmas shopping on Monday; Steve and I planned to buy Syd a left-handed guitar and went to Guitar Center to get one. They had one guitar left in stock, but it was priced for a musician in an Austin band, not for a kid looking for a guitar to take to a college dorm to mess around with.
Syd is not left-handed, but he is missing some fingers on his left hand. Last year he took drum lessons to prove to himself he could play the drums. He played at one recital and then moved on. He took a job at Amy's Ice Creams not only to be with his best bud Dakota, but to prove to himself he could scoop and crush with the best of them.
So it was important for me to find him a guitar. As we left Guitar Center I called Strait Music and asked about their inventory of left-handed guitars. They called me back as I was searching for another gift at Target. Strait's guitars were even pricier than Guitar Center.
We knew Syd had seen a guitar on Amazon. So I stood in the center of an aisle at Target, logged into Amazon on my phone and ordered the guitar he had seen. I chose the expedited 2-day shipping, praying it would make it to our house by Christmas.
When my order was confirmed however, it didn't mention the shipping. It didn't even charge me for shipping. When I woke up the next day, I saw an email from Amazon at 2 a.m. that said it had shipped and would arrive between December 29 and 31. I immediately felt a wave of depression hit me. If you are a working mom, or really any mom with a hectic schedule, you know how easy it is to be hard on yourself when you feel you have failed your kids. What was I doing shopping for Syd on December 21st?
I have cried about that guitar twice this week. I told Syd that his big gift was not coming on Christmas, but closer to New Year's. "It's okay," he said with a smile. But it wasn't okay with me. Steve and I took a walk this morning and I listed out loud all the things I was thankful for in the moment, as depression came knocking at my door. One of the things I thanked God for was that Syd didn't care his present was coming late.
Today between making lasagna and ironing drapes, I sat down to watch "The Family Stone" with my family. Actually some of us stood as Steve was steam cleaning carpets today. We like to keep it real.
If you have seen that movie, you know the mom dies in the end. I had forgotten. While Steve and my boys are laughing at the stupidity of the movie, I am crying. Tears streaming down. "Oh MY gosh, mom!" said Syd. Steve who knows me well, said "She's crying about the guitar." I was. "It's OKAY," says Syd, patting my arm, "It's not about the presents."
The movie ended and I got up to clean the lasagna pots and pans in the kitchen, and I hear Scout barking like crazy from the other room. Then I hear the sound of the well-known brakes of a UPS van in front of our house. Can't be. "Ho - ho - looks like we got a package!" says Syd, the only other one around.
I hear the bells jingle on the front door as it opens and closes, and as I come around from the kitchen holding a dish towel, there is Syd holding a giant package, with a big smile on his face. And yes, I covered my face with the dish towel and started to cry again. This time because I felt God so close.
As I look the box over, I see the UPS ground mailing label. It shouldn't be here. I think the statistics of packages being delivered this Christmas are around 520 million for UPS and another 450 million for FedEx. They are renting moving vans, hiring extra help to respond to all the people who like me, found themselves standing in the middle of a Target, ordering a gift for their loved one, praying it gets there on time.
It isn't about the presents, you guys. But it IS about how much God loves us. He knew Syd's desire, he glimpsed at my heart, and He made it happen. He waited for just the right moment to do it. And He wrote a post script on my heart of I love you.
When I was a little girl, one of my happiest times at Christmas was caroling in the snow, trampling down salted sidewalks. I loved shaking jingle bells and watching people's faces light up as they gathered by their front doors to listen to us, backlit by the glow of Christmas lights; winter's icy chill in the air. This was better and bigger than that, with a little jingle added in.
Merry Christmas.
Syd is not left-handed, but he is missing some fingers on his left hand. Last year he took drum lessons to prove to himself he could play the drums. He played at one recital and then moved on. He took a job at Amy's Ice Creams not only to be with his best bud Dakota, but to prove to himself he could scoop and crush with the best of them.
So it was important for me to find him a guitar. As we left Guitar Center I called Strait Music and asked about their inventory of left-handed guitars. They called me back as I was searching for another gift at Target. Strait's guitars were even pricier than Guitar Center.
We knew Syd had seen a guitar on Amazon. So I stood in the center of an aisle at Target, logged into Amazon on my phone and ordered the guitar he had seen. I chose the expedited 2-day shipping, praying it would make it to our house by Christmas.
When my order was confirmed however, it didn't mention the shipping. It didn't even charge me for shipping. When I woke up the next day, I saw an email from Amazon at 2 a.m. that said it had shipped and would arrive between December 29 and 31. I immediately felt a wave of depression hit me. If you are a working mom, or really any mom with a hectic schedule, you know how easy it is to be hard on yourself when you feel you have failed your kids. What was I doing shopping for Syd on December 21st?
I have cried about that guitar twice this week. I told Syd that his big gift was not coming on Christmas, but closer to New Year's. "It's okay," he said with a smile. But it wasn't okay with me. Steve and I took a walk this morning and I listed out loud all the things I was thankful for in the moment, as depression came knocking at my door. One of the things I thanked God for was that Syd didn't care his present was coming late.
Today between making lasagna and ironing drapes, I sat down to watch "The Family Stone" with my family. Actually some of us stood as Steve was steam cleaning carpets today. We like to keep it real.
If you have seen that movie, you know the mom dies in the end. I had forgotten. While Steve and my boys are laughing at the stupidity of the movie, I am crying. Tears streaming down. "Oh MY gosh, mom!" said Syd. Steve who knows me well, said "She's crying about the guitar." I was. "It's OKAY," says Syd, patting my arm, "It's not about the presents."
The movie ended and I got up to clean the lasagna pots and pans in the kitchen, and I hear Scout barking like crazy from the other room. Then I hear the sound of the well-known brakes of a UPS van in front of our house. Can't be. "Ho - ho - looks like we got a package!" says Syd, the only other one around.
I hear the bells jingle on the front door as it opens and closes, and as I come around from the kitchen holding a dish towel, there is Syd holding a giant package, with a big smile on his face. And yes, I covered my face with the dish towel and started to cry again. This time because I felt God so close.
As I look the box over, I see the UPS ground mailing label. It shouldn't be here. I think the statistics of packages being delivered this Christmas are around 520 million for UPS and another 450 million for FedEx. They are renting moving vans, hiring extra help to respond to all the people who like me, found themselves standing in the middle of a Target, ordering a gift for their loved one, praying it gets there on time.
It isn't about the presents, you guys. But it IS about how much God loves us. He knew Syd's desire, he glimpsed at my heart, and He made it happen. He waited for just the right moment to do it. And He wrote a post script on my heart of I love you.
When I was a little girl, one of my happiest times at Christmas was caroling in the snow, trampling down salted sidewalks. I loved shaking jingle bells and watching people's faces light up as they gathered by their front doors to listen to us, backlit by the glow of Christmas lights; winter's icy chill in the air. This was better and bigger than that, with a little jingle added in.
Merry Christmas.
