When my daughter was expecting her first child, there was a tsunami of gifts. They came from friends and family, from neighbors, and arrived in astonishing numbers from our customers. That baby was so well welcomed; it was humbling.
The same has been true for the new wee one. For weeks before her birth, and now, five weeks after her arrival, sweet presents keep rolling in. We are awash in gratitude.
Today, a familiar vehicle pulled up outside. It belonged to a favorite customer, and I was alarmed because his name was not on the calendar. I feared I had made a mistake and neglected to write down an appointment. He came to the door and smiled when he saw Rachel, who had popped in to visit. "I came to see you," he said. And handed her two beautiful wooden spoons. "I carved these for your little girls," he said. "From wood on our property."
"I'll be making them bowls to go with them," he said. The wood is lovely and perfectly smooth. Rachel and I turned them over and over in our hands, admiring the grain and the finish and the marvelous creativity and care that went into each one.
The daily news reports are bleak and make me worry for the world. But then there are tiny baby clothes in bright packages, dear books, warm cards, warmer blankets and quilts, festive hair bows. And spoons, hand carved with deep care. And kindness.
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