originally posted 19 NOV 2014
Once upon a time there lived a young girl. She spent her childhood
immersed in books. You see, her mother was too busy for her most of the
time.
The little girl wanted her mother's attention. She wanted to know
that she mattered more to her mother than Macys and Nordstroms. She
wanted just a bit of the life that seemed to value trips to makeup
counters and nail salons more than time spent with her daughter. When
they were home, the young gal was often in trouble. She was banished to
her room or outside and, often, these little interludes were the cause
of new bruises on her body.
The girl was not artsy. She wished she was. She saw other girls in
school get awards for their artwork. She would see her friend's artwork
proudly displayed on their fridges but her own was thrown out or
neglected.
One day, a friend showed her how to make paper wallets. She had such
fun and was so proud of her creations. She had slots for cards, an area
for money and even a place to put a picture if somebody wanted to put
her daughter's school picture in it. She'd create them and give them to
her mother.
Years later, this same little girl discovered that her 'love
language' was gifts. It wasn't that she wanted elaborate gifts but she
shows her love by giving meaningful gifts to others.
And, for a young girl with no special talent, she was extraordinarily
proud of those paper wallets and gave each one to her mother until one
day her mother said she really didn't want any paper wallets and could
she please stop giving them to her. The little girl, for years, could
remember her mother's laugh as she said it. It wasn't a kind laugh. It
was more a 'you are bothering me kid' sort of laugh. That crushed that
little girl more than any bruise she had ever received.
That little girl grew up and had a little girl of her own. If they
went to the mall, it was for the little girl, to buy her clothes or to
go out for a special treat. That little girl has a mother who saves all
of her artwork and knows it is indeed a treasure. Gifts given from the
earliest of age were always treasured, from the small smooshed dandelion
to the scribbles on paper. The former little girl knows that children
are always a treasure and feels so blessed to be a mother.
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