Stuff is Just Stuff--But Sometimes It's More

I'd like to believe I'm not materialistic--of course I'd also like to

believe in unicorns and garden fairies....

I will, however, proudly say, as I break my arm patting myself on the back, that I am far less materialistic than I used to be--for three years I have successfully done the whole 40 bags for 40 days in Lent thing, and I have attempted to join the whole Maria Kondo cultural phenomena--not very successfully, or maybe it's just because with four children the amount of stuff we have expands but the size of our home does not and so I purge...

Last week I was gone all week arriving home late Saturday night. Monday morning I sat down to go through the mail. I reached for my letter opener (my new letter opener--stay tuned it's the main character in this story), and it wasn't there. I got a little crazy--it didn't take long. I pulled everything

Confession; not all of it is put away

off my desk; I searched every drawer in the house; I dug through Christmas boxes in the living room that had recently been packed (don't judge it wasn't yet Feb. 1--they're gone now...), but I couldn't find it. (I have to admit/confess I do have another letter opener we received as a wedding gift--it was also lost for MONTHS! I loved it too, and it was special, but I accepted it was lost with very little fanfare.)

I walked into the kitchen and tried to tell Chris I couldn't find the letter opener, without bursting into tears--I was also deluding myself believing he didn't know I was in a state of panic as he had watched me race around the house for the last 30 minutes. He put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said in his very calm voice (the voice he still, after 25 years, believes will actually calm me--God love him), "We will find it. It's got to be here somewhere. Don't worry. It will turn up." It actually did work for about an hour--I might be stretching the time a bit....

As I sat at my grandmother's desk attempting to concentrate on Morning Prayer I remembered one day several weeks ago when the letter opener was close to the edge and could have slipped down in a space on the desk. I quickly grabbed the other letter opener and began to dig around and sure enough I could feel something; it had to be my missing letter opener. I pried and pried and couldn't get it out, so I decided the letter opener wasn't strong enough. I raced (seriously) over to the silver drawer and grabbed a knife. I dug around and the knife broke and yes it was one of my sterling silver knives--have I mentioned I love sterling silver and find polishing it close to a spiritual exercise---definitely materialism at its finest with a feeble attempt to justify it, well there is a little justification (Polishing Silver)--this time, I didn't care. I just wanted/needed to get to my letter opener. I unscrewed portions of the desk--it didn't work. I may have started to cry tears of frustration. I slammed the desk shut and shazam--the drawer! I took it all the way out and yep there was my letter opener--safe and sound and now back in my hands.

Early last fall I sent a text in the family group text, "For Christmas I would like a weighted blanket and a letter opener" no one responded (welcome to my world--maybe it's because I'm an over achieving texter...) I didn't mention it again.

Christmas morning I received a beautiful blanket from SK that she knit--I take it with me everywhere. Boss gave me a large electric blanket I keep on the couch in our very cold den; William and Caroline gave me a letter opener.

This wasn't an ordinary letter opener. This was an extra special, my heart is bursting letter opener. They didn't just give me a letter opener, they gave me a letter opener they had engraved with "Love The Babies."

When the children were small we differentiated them as "The Big Kids" and "The Babies". I know I know it doesn't make much sense, the same age difference (17 months)  between the last 3 and only 22 months between Boss and SK, so really no one was "big" they were ALL BABIES, but that is beside the point...

For 18 years they have been "the big kids" and "the babies" and yes even in public. (I'm very good at giving them things to tell a therapist....) They are all young adults now--they are all moving on with their lives. I am fully aware the days and months of them being home for long stretches of time is rapidly coming to an end. I understand and I even celebrate that (most days). I am incredibly proud of the people they are becoming even as my heart misses the little ones they were. This Christmas their gifts told me they understood. Their gifts to me said more than they paid attention to my text. Their gifts said I mattered. Their gifts said they wanted to take care of me too. Their gifts said they loved me. And the engraving said, "We are growing up; we are leaving home for our own lives, but part of us will always be 'The Babies'; part of us will always stay connected to you."

So yeah, stuff is just stuff, but sometimes it's more....