What I wanted was a fax machine.
What I got was a diamond necklace.
But for two weeks I could not let myself enjoy it!
We had always been practical people. Our very first Christmas as a married couple, I had dreams of a tree with lots of presents under it for my new husband. I’d received a bonus from the little school I was teaching at, and I wanted to spend it all on Jack. I envistioned a pile of pretty presents, evidence of my love for him. He said what he really wanted for Christmas was to pay off the Sears bill.
Get out. Pay off the Sears bill? That’s a present? To him it was, and so that’s what I gave. Reluctantly, I admit, but it was his present, when it came right down to it.
And that’s how I learned to broaden my concept of gift-giving. It didn’t have to come in a pretty box tied with a shiny bow, although it could. Rather, it could be a gift of thoughtfulness — or a gift of time — or a gift of knowledge. Jack truly enjoyed the knowledge that we didn’t owe Sears anything. It freed his mind and lightened his spirit.
I soon came to see his point. Anything could be a gift that way. If a “paid in full” bill could count, then so could washing the car or buying fresh work clothes or choosing a new refrigerator together. No need for wrapping paper or ribbon every time — you could even give your gift in the shopping bag it came in, if you wanted.
I remember the first time Jack did that. He was still in his coat, fresh from shopping, and just handed me his gift. I thought, “Wait, shouldn’t we save this for my actual birthday? Shouldn’t it be wrapped? If I open it now, what about later?” But his face was eager. He wanted me to enjoy his surprise right then and there. And how could I resist those brown eyes? So of course I opened it, as more preconceived ideas of gift-giving went out the window: Right now is a good time. Whatever the giver is giving is a good gift.
That’s how we came to give mostly practical gifts over the years. One year I got car repair and a root canal for Christmas. And it was my own idea by that time! We gave tools, we gave dinner out, we gave work boots. Sometimes we even shopped for ourselves and told the other person what good taste they had exercised in shopping. I’m writing today from one of his biggest gifts to me: an office chair for my desk. It supports my back and is actually the most comfortable place in the whole house to sit. It cost him his entire Christmas bonus, and then some, but I came to see that it was his pleasure to give it to me, and — at least — it was practical. I could take it better, knowing that.
Anyway…one Valentine’s Day I came home to find a jeweler’s box, wrapped in real paper, tied with a real bow, resting on my pillow. I didn’t know what to think.
Inside was a simple diamond on a gold chain. It was extravagant, it was unexpected, and it threw me off-balance. How could I accept it? But those brown eyes of his said it all. He loved me, and he wanted to show me in a way that was as lovely as he could make it.
I wince to recall this, but inwardly I was slow to accept and enjoy his surprise. I don’t think I showed it outwardly — I really hope I didn’t — but I remember struggling to justify accepting a gift that was so unlike what we usually gave each other. In those days, as mentioned earlier, I had had my eye on a fax machine. It seemed a justifiable expenditure, a help in communication, which our family is big on. If Jack had purchased that, my enthusiasm would have been immediate and genuine.
But a diamond necklace was over the top. Lavish. Extra. I think — I hope — I did a commendable job of expressing gratitude, because on one level, I was grateful. But still, I wrestled with simply accepting the unexpected and undeserved. In the wrestling, I learned yet another lesson: Nothing robs you of enjoyment of what you’re holding than wishing for what else you might have had.
Eventually, I realized that necklace called for a response. I could wear it, accepting both the gift and the giver. Or I could leave it in the box, unused.
I decided to accept it and enjoy it. The turning point in my rumination was this: I realized I had already accepted an extravagant gift I could never have deserved — the forgiveness of my debt by a righteous God. And when He stamped “paid in full” on my account, a gift both beautiful and practical, it changed everything.
So I decided precedent had been set, and I felt free to accept Jack’s diamond and the love that prompted it. That did change everything, giving me pleasure, beauty, and the knowledge I was loved every time I saw it.
You can be quite sure these days I am especially glad he chose for me the diamond.
That’s just the fax.
