My sister shared a conversation with me, where she told her daughter to be suspicious of why people give gifts. As I listened to her speak; I thought about my Mother.
My first reaction to my sister’s words was that we were not raised by the same Mother; which of course we were. My Mother loved gifts; both to give and receive.
I loved giving to my Mother, for many reasons, including how happy and grateful she would be. My Mother was equally thrilled whether you gave her a piece of candy or a coat.
I also loved receiving gifts from my Mother. For most of her life she had limited funds and transportation; but regardless of her circumstances, my Mother always found a way to give, and always joyfully.
It is true that some of her gifts were perhaps a bit odd. I still have a hot water bottle, which slips inside of a cover, which looks like a lamb. But she grew up in a world where you needed hot water bottles; and she thought the little lamb would help keep it warm.
Then there are gifts like this nativity, which absolutely shocked me when I received it; and which I still love and look forward to putting up each year.
My Mother always tried to find a way to incorporate the Lord into all of our worlds. So I was not surprised that she gave me a little Bethlehem for the Village.
It really is so her; but it is also so me. Yes, I have added a few pieces, like the trees, fences, and jars; but basically this is how it came.
I love these little houses; and I love that my Mother gave them to me.