I WAS talking to George, a dear friend in his 80s, and he told me that his wife had just celebrated her birthday and they had a wonderful time.
Their grandkids came and there was a big feast. So I asked him, “When is your birthday?” and he told me.
That conversation occurred in December last year. I knew I wasn’t very good at remembering dates so I keyed the date down in my phone.
When his birthday arrived in January, I decided to make a wooden tea caddy with an assortment of tea sachets in it.
I decorated the box with embellishments and trimmings. Like most Irishmen, George loves to drink tea. When I gave him the caddy, he was thrilled to bits.
The beauty of giving is when it comes from the heart — not because we have to and not because it is a season for giving.
That is why I believe very much in “unbirthdays”.
An unbirthday can be celebrated on any of the days in a year which is not the person’s birthday. Coined by Lewis Carroll in Through the Looking Glass, we see Humpty Dumpty in a cravat that was given to him as an “unbirthday present” by the White King and Queen. We also have The Unbirthday Song in the 1951 Walt Disney’s animated feature film, Alice in Wonderland.
So, when I see or make something that a good friend might like, I’ll just give it to him as a present at anytime of the year.
“It’s the thought that counts” has been used flippantly to describe any gift, even gifts that reveal tell tale signs that not much thought has actually been put into it.
A heartfelt gift undergoes a process that requires time — time to think, time to browse in the shops or time to make.
When we take the time to think, to make or to buy, to wrap and then to deliver the gift, the anticipation builds until that moment of surprise and delight when the person who least expects a gift, receives it.
Simply put, it tells the person what he means to you.
In the early years, when I first came to Ireland, a particular elderly relative was very nice to me. She was non-judgemental and embraced me as her own.
I felt very touched by her warmth and acceptance, and made a cushion for her.
It took me some time to cross-stitch bright orange sunflowers against black gingham-checked cotton fabric.
I wanted to share the “sun” of my country, a country that is hospitable to strangers.
She was overwhelmed and was determined to keep the cushion in pristine condition, wrapped in plastic and all.
Recently, I handmade a quilt for her to keep her warm during wintry nights.
When we went to her house to deliver the quilt she wasn’t in so we left it with her neighbour.
That evening she rang me and, between sobs, told me how precious the quilt was to her.
Times like this reminds me that every minute put into making or buying a gift is well worth it.
A broad smile, a surprised face and a happy heart — nothing compares with these intangible returns. The rewards of giving can never be underestimated.
I have read about professionals leaving secure environments with their young families in tow, to do charity work in impoverished lands. What a magnanimous attitude!
We may not be brave enough to leave the comforts of home to serve in strange places, but certainly we have friends around us to whom we can show care and love?
This means giving them our undivided attention and time.
A friend told me that she wouldn’t go to a certain person’s house again because although she was invited over for a cup of tea, the hostess was too busy cleaning, and had no time to sit with her to drink tea.
I met George the following week, and asked him whether he had tried the different tea flavours.
He said, ‘I’m keeping them for special occasions.’
It is a gift too precious to use wantonly. It is a gift from heart to heart.
The writer was a lecturer at
Universiti Teknologi Mara and now spends her days enjoying life as it is