The Gift that gives.

I am sure I have told you before about my good friend, a friend of many years, but he was much in my mind just the other day as I walked so I am going to speak of him once again.

He has some stories that take little prompting to bring to the fore of his mind. One thing that seems to have fascinated him for years has been Henry V111 of England and his shipbuilding and battling of the Spanish Armada. 

if we are out walking together and we pass an oak tree he will raise it something like this. "They must have hundreds and thousands of oak trees in those days. All those ships built of oak. It is amazing there are still any left." The chances are that we would then move on to some tales about the battles fought, lost and won. 

The other day I was walking through a forest here in France and being bombarded by falling acorns. I had only learned from a little book I have called, Food for free, that such acorns gathered at this stage are edible and tasty especially roasted. Anyway, I thought I had, at last, solved the problem of a gift to take back to my good friend. How many oak trees would it take to build a battleship? I could gather that number and give them to him as a kit, "Build your own battleship." 

The instructions would begin with how to plant and nurture these acorns to allow them to grow. The gift that would go on giving for years to come, for the rest of his life and mine. We could plan the ship and how to build it. How to cut and manage the trees.

Here are two other little tales I remember about gifts.

 A young lad was living in California when he found out my grandmother had congestive heart failure and wasn’t expected to pull through. She was one of, if not, my best friends. He had lived with her when his dad was overseas in the army. H always felt like her arms were around him in times of need, that he could say anything to her and she would help and understand.

He made it to Illinois in time to be there the day she died. When he went to her home to go through her belongings, he found a glass canning jar of pickled beets in the fridge with his name written on the label. He had not been back there for some time, but he thought she somehow had known he would be with her at the end of her life. 

He sat down, crying, and ate the whole jar. This jar of beets was the gift of a lifetime and although eaten all at once would be with him forever.

This next little story is a bit of a weepy but makes a genuine point.

 A late teenage girl had been over a year with her boyfriend. It was her birthday and she expected what she called a decent meaningful gift. Maybe a nice dinner or a cute jacket from my favourite store. So when he handed her what felt like a wrapped piece of paper, her heart sank. 

With fake enthusiasm cued up, she unwrapped a two-pocket folder. Inside were official documents for a star he’d purchased for her, and named Martine. 

Martine was the name given to her mother in a Quebec orphanage before she was adopted in the U.S. and renamed Judy. It’s also her middle name. Her mother died when she was 16, and she spent a few embarrassing nights tearfully telling her boyfriend stories about her. 

Even though a piece of paper could not bring back her mother, she said that the night sky had felt different ever since.  She said it was like her mother was up there sparkling in all her eternal glory, constantly with her. 

Gifts are such amazing things but the greatest gift of all is the gift of friendship and people who do caring things that change your life and fill you with joy.

Have a marvellous day whenever you read this, my friends.