Children come up with all kinds of reasons not to wear certain clothes: maybe the color is yucky, or the collar scratchy, or the sleeves too short. My favorite reason, however, is one I gave to my mother when I was a preschooler: I refused to wear a jacket because it had no story to go along with it.
To understand this protest, you must know that all my clothes were second-hand when I was a child. (I remember having a pair of new jeans for the first time when I was in middle school, and I think my first brand-new dress came when I was fifteen). When helping me dress for church or play, my parents would tell me about the person who handed down that article to me. Thus, when my mother somehow obtained a new jacket for me, I naturally asked her who used to wear it. “No one,” she said. “This is new.” New? I would have none of it.
Growing up in this culture of hand-me-downs and storied things has saved me from a good deal of discontent in my life, most recently regarding wedding registries.
Really and truly, I love seeing what people put on their wedding registries. Especially for friends I have seen live in Spartan bachelor pads or serve dinner parties on mismatched collections Corelle ware, these registries help me imagine the look of their “grown-up” households and, in turn, the new lives they will be building with their spouses.
Sometimes, I must confess, I have been jealous of these registries. It isn’t just that I find it unfair that some people manage to get lifelong commitment and matching dishes all at the same time: of course it is unfair, but it is also very, very good. At its root, my concern has been one of validation: I love registries most because I know that for the rest of their lives, my friends will know that much of their everyday, essential household equipage came from people who know and love them. Not only that, these gifts confirm that these young adults are setting up a household--a tiny economy of love and work, patience and grace.
What then, is a single girl (or, more to the point: young woman) to do? She could buy herself matching dishes and all that, but that’s not satisfying in quite the same way. Though no longer a little girl, I still want things to have stories. I want to look at my cups and saucers and think, “Oh, so-and-so gave that to me.”
With these ideas in mind, I walked through my apartment earlier this week, trying to note all the things that have been given to me. As I made the list (below), I was quickly convicted that any yearning for a registry is greedy and ungrateful. Little by little over the years, my family and friends have equipped me with all the good things--all and much, much more--I need to make a home for myself and others.
These things are precious to me, so much so that, to be honest, I would be reluctant to replace most of them. When I look at my home, I realize I have been given something far better than a registry. To some extent, people feel compelled to bring gifts to a wedding. It is expected. In contrast, my friends and family have filled my house in quiet, unlooked-for ways. Even the soap in my shower and the toothpaste on my vanity, I realized, were given to me. What follows is not a complete list--I have catalogued only the things I use or notice nearly every day--and I have not allowed myself to tell the story behind each thing, limiting myself to the names of the givers.
These are the things they have brought me:
In my bedroom:
- quilt made by my great-grandmother
- yoga mat from Kareem
- hair-dryer from Mary
- hair-dryer from Mary
- curtains (and at least 1/3 of my skirts) made by my mother
- CDs from Julianna and Nathaniel
- CDs from Julianna and Nathaniel
- jewelry from Hunter, Jenn, Mandy, and Rachel
- a sewing machine, given to my mother when she graduated from high school, then handed down to me
- framed, illuminated manuscript of Jeremiah 29.11 from Mr. and Mrs. Harrison
- knitting needles from Lennon
- staple gun Mark and Keith gave me
- computer printer from Emily
In my living room:
- the set of The Chronicles of Narnia my parents read to me, crumbling dust jackets and all
- countless beautiful books from Will, Hunter, Dave, and others
- an eccentric DVD collection, supplied mostly by my great-aunt Martha
- a television from Martin
- a television from Martin
- tools for my spinning wheel from Margaret, Hunter, and my father
In my kitchen
- circra 1970 Oster stand mixer from Mary (and her mother before her)
- that lovely oak-lef mug from Mark
- cookbooks Rachel and Jenn
- one teapot from Lennon, and another from my mother (I drink a lot of tea)
- tea from Eric, Nathaniel, Shannon, Martin, Rachel
- spices from Jenn and Grant
- wind chimes from my mother and aunt Lanette
- handmade ceramic bowl and mug made by Mari
- spatula from Eric
- my grandmother's cast-iron skillet
- my great-grandmother's bread board
- an enormous bottle of Mexican vanilla from Jon and Steph
- pear butter from Amy
Finally, if you open my cabinets, you will find a set of matching dishes (an amazing yard-sale find, in exactly the pattern I wanted) from my mother.
I could make this list much longer, but I hope it is already clear that I have many reasons to be grateful, and not one good reason to covet anyone’s registry.
I wish I could give you all friends as attentive and generous as my own. I hope that I am half as generous as they. However, I can encourage myself and you to be such friends. Watch, listen, look for something small and essential you can give a friend. Be old-fashioned. Pray over it. Don't make them wait for a wedding registry.
What everyday things do you have that have been gifts or hand-me-downs? For those who are married, what were the most meaningful/useful gifts you received?
