Amazon Wish Lists & The Joys of Gifting

When I was little I liked to read the Reader's Digests that my parents always had lying around the house.  I usually flipped through to find the joke sections like “Humor in Uniform” and the vocabulary builders.  But one time I stumbled across a parable from spiritualist Max Lucado.  I liked it so much that I wrote it out and taped it to my bedroom wall:

I’ve seen you searching for a gift.  I’ve seen you stalking the malls and walking the aisles.  I’m not talking about the obligatory gifts.  I’m not describing the last-minute purchase of drugstore perfume on the way to a birthday party.  Forget the blue-light specials and discount purchases; I’m talking about that extraspecial person and that extraspecial gift.  I’m talking about … staring at a thousand rings to find her the best diamond; staying up all night Christmas Eve, assembling the new bicycle.  Why do you do it?  You do it so the eyes will pop.  You do it so the heart will stop.  You do it so the jaw will drop.  You do it to hear those words of disbelief, “You did this for me?”

That’s why you do it.  And that’s why God did it.  Next time a sunrise steals your breath or a meadow of flowers leaves you speechless, remain that way.  Say nothing and listen as heaven whispers:  “Do you like it?  I did it just for you.”

I’m not very religious, but I love that quote.  And now when I see a beautiful sunset over the cornfields in Indiana or am marveling at the pinkness of the cherry blossoms, those words remind me to take a moment to entertain the possibility that this was all designed by something/someone, for us.

But enough with the ethereality. I want to talk about the first part of that quote: the “blue-light specials” and the not-so-great gifts.  You see, I’m starting to think that, with the dilution of time to assuage disappointment, a gift can be like pizza: even when it’s bad it’s good.  So with deepest love and affection for the gift-givers, let me reluctantly share the two worst gifts I ever received:  

1.  Christmas, 19 years old: A metallic pink quilted vest that looked like the lovechild of Hello Kitty and StarTrek.

2.  Easter, 15 years old:  I have never seen this movie.  I never wanted to see this movie nor listen to its music. Yet, the Easter Bunny left this soundtrack of the oft-forgotten animated Disney movie The Road to El Dorado next to the Reese’s eggs in my basket.

Even when they’re bad they’re good; reminiscing about those gifts is bringing a big smile to my face today, and I’m grateful for those memories and for the loving faces behind those gifts.  Nowadays, I think I’m pretty easy to shop for.  Like I told Ian as Christmastime: “If I all I get for presents this year are Chipotle giftcards, I won’t even be disappointed.”

I was not disappointed come December 25th, but not because a plethora of Mexican grill-ness rained down upon me.  Nope.  Because Ian and I set up an Amazon Wish List.  You can add items from Amazon as well as any other website!  So instead of obscure Disney movie soundtracks, I got a travel crate and water bowl for Teddy.  Instead of a pink vest, I got a gorgeous spring dress from Shabby Apple.

I realize that there is a special beauty in the pure, unprompted, well-planned gift. In the past two years alone, I've been gifted two little herb gardens from family members/blog readers for Christmas; Ian took me to a vegetarian cooking class for Valentine's Day; my parents bought us a pet-hair vacuum for our Christmastime Newfie puppy; and my in-laws have positively spoiled me with gorgeous handbags and wallets. I'm a lucky duck.

But unless you're the kind of person that jots down every little "Oh that'd be nice!" and "This is so cute!" that you hear throughout the year, gifting can be hard. Maybe even stressful. So perhaps, every once in awhile, we should give each other a leg up and digitize our suggestions. Besides, why should weddings and baby showers get to monopolize gift registries?  Let’s Carrie Bradshaw this thing and spread the joy of gifting all around.