It isn't the size of the gift that matters,
but the size of the heart that gives it.
When I was little, I had a lot of things that were hand made by my family members. My grandmother was an excellent seamstress, and growing up, I had a closet full of clothes made by her for my sister and me. My mother didn't inherit her mother's outstanding sewing talent, but she still sewed things for us once in a while. She is also very good at knitting. I vividly remember this one year when extra money was scarce in our home she knitted a pair of gloves for my birthday. The fingers were all of different colors, and they had flowers on the back of the hands, and I wore them until unsightly wholes appeared on the tips of the fingers.
This year, when we went to visit grandma, my mom, with Joseph, she presented him with a pair of socks. A special pair of socks, made just for him by her. They may not be the prettiest socks around, but they were made of sturdy wool to keep his little feetsies warm on cold winter days.
She knitted the left sock anticipating our visit, missing him, wishing October got there faster, longing to hold him, kiss him, and spoil him rotten. She knitted the right sock, just to make sure she guessed the size correctly, while we were there, in between her attempts to fit a year's worth of hugs and kisses into the month of our stay. Every thread in this pair is laced with her love, her thoughts and dreams, her hopes for him.
Joseph and his grandma
Joseph doesn't yet care about what he wears. I could put a pair of ziplock bags on his feet, and he probably wouldn't even notice. I do hope, however, that through the years, as more and more homemade gifts fall into his little hands, he will learn that the best and most precious gifts rarely come in a shiny box accompanied with a gift receipt, they are wrapped in love and tied with thoughtfulness.
Are you making any special gifts this year?