Whenever my kids have to give someone a gift their first thought is to go through their own toys and treasures and choose something to give away. It's always one of their favorite things.
And there are very few people in our culture who would appreciate such a gift, or understand it's value, instead thinking us cheap and ungenerous.
But to supplement their gift somehow, with something "better" cheapens in their own eyes the value of their extravagant generosity. It tells them that their sacrifice isn't good enough.
I don't know yet how to deal with this one.
Moving. I enjoy the act of purging that a move requires, especially the reckless shedding of stuff I would otherwise hold onto. And I enjoy the anticipation of the new places and new adventures.
I always start looking around the home we are leaving and feeling grief at leaving the place where so many things happened; the hallway where Little first walked, the pool where the Boy first swam on his own, the comfort of a place that has been home for so long. The one thing I regret about marrying such a restless type is that I will probably never really settle in anywhere and call a place home for even a decade at a time.
My children are growing up. I am joyfully celebrating each milestone with them, and helping them grow and learn.
Yet I can't help missing the way they once were, even as I watch them become more fully themselves each day.
I am weak.
But He is strong.