Lifting hearts to God in thanks and praise.

Love Packages

Bonnie shared about the Five Love Languages in her post today, and while I really enjoy the concept and the awareness it has brought to people of different ways that others may need to be loved, I find it hard to pinpoint my one special love language. I suppose I’m multilingual, and can receive many forms of love.

Lately I’ve been speaking the language of gifts. I’ve been crocheting (and for my family, baking) gifts like this heart.

While crocheting I’ve been thinking of the people I am making them for. I enjoy not just the process of crocheting, the color and feel of the yarn slipping through my fingers and becoming something, but I also enjoy the person for whom the gift is being made. There’s a lovely passage in Villette by Charlotte Bronte that perhaps first informed what I feel:

He took out the [watch]chain – a trifle indeed as to value, but glossy with silk and sparkling with beads. He liked that too – admired it artlessly, like a child.
“For me?”
“Yes, for you.”
“This is the thing you were working at last night?”
“The same.”
“You finished it this morning?”
“I did.”
“You commenced it with the intention that it should be mine?”
“And offered on my fete-day?”
“This purpose continued as you wove it?”
Again I assented.
“Then it is not necessary that I should cut out any portion – saying, this part is not mine; it was plaited under the idea and for the adornment of another?”
“By no means. It is neither necessary, nor would it be just.”
“This object is all mine?”
“That object is yours entirely.”
Straightway Monsieur opened his paletot, arranged the guard splendidly across his chest, displaying as much and supressing as little as he could: for he had no notion of concealing what he admired and thought decorative.

That a gift handmade would be treasured not just for its skill, color, shape, but for the loving intent of the maker (just for me!) is brilliant. That I can, while creating, love and pray for the intended recipient gives me great joy. That I have received likewise gifts, a painting upon my wall, a poem from my beloved, has given me the treasured feeling I hope to send.

There is more: when I packaged up the present, and it was a while before I did, finally the time was short to mail it and be assured it would arrive on time, when I packaged up the present I was filled with expectant joy. I imagined my dear friend opening her surprise package, unwrapping the love I am sending (and if she’s reading this, don’t worry for her, there’s more inside the package).

I hope she feels loved.

I hope she thanks and praises God.

I won’t be there when she opens it, but he will!

A package came for me.

I will write more about it soon.

As I unwrapped it and thought, “How pretty!”

and enjoyed the color, the design, the words,

I delighted in the love of God,
and began to think with whom I could share it.

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