Now that the din of the holidays has quieted, it’s time to reflect on how it all went. And this is just one little observation. In fact, I don’t have a ton of experience with this kind of thing, but a conversation with a friend last month made me run back to some of my memories surrounding these Favorite Things parties. When I’ve been invited to something like this in years past, my initial reaction has been to run, or at least avoid it somehow, to check—really scour—my calendar to see if there were any possible conflicts. I know that’s weird. It’s just that this kind of thing honestly is pretty much completely out of my comfort zone. At least back when it first started to show up in my life. My only associations were my mom’s grown up friend hosting her annual get-together. But she is fancy and knows all about what’s current and popular. It all reminded me of Oprah. It just seemed something other women did: jumpy women, excited women, fun women. Not really plain, quiet, serious women like me. Would I be the most boring one there? And besides, it gave me anxiety. Christmas already left me feeling effectively tapped out. I had no idea what to bring. What were the expectations? What was a normal or acceptable offering? What if we played the game where we had to take another gift we liked better? It would take me back to school years and choosing teams. It all seemed a little over my head. I wasn’t sure if I was the right person for their guest lists. But flattered and honored to be considered, I’m grateful I decided to attend these gatherings. I’ve interacted with women I didn’t really know; for what it’s worth, I learned what’s currently trendy or what kinds of tools or products are tried and true; and, best of all, I caught a glimpse into my friends’ lives and hearts.
So it was fascinating when I received as one of my gifts something truly unique and worthy of cherishing. My daughter and I love this unique present so much. It’s a box of cards—not notecards—just huge cards like little kids would hold to play Go Fish or Old Maid with. Beautiful painted depictions of Brave Women on one side with a description of their lives’ work on the back, pointing out their contributions and places in history. Fascinating, enchanting, so interesting and unusual. My daughter immediately wanted to collage her room in them; they are perfect on her wall! So I reported back to the giver how much joy her gift has brought us, to which she replied in essence how grateful she was we liked them. She was worried about bringing them.
And this is where I confessed I knew exactly how she felt.
This is the part of this kind of party that makes me uneasy. Because I—like her—am forced to expose a corner of my personality I’m not sure will be entirely welcomed. There, I admit it. That’s the crux of it.
Which is actually the beauty of this kind of gathering: sharing ourselves with others, being vulnerable, allowing others into our hearts by sharing something dear to us, a little peek into what makes us each unique. But this can be hard.
Because I’m almost positive no one actually hoped to get my favorite kind of kitchen towels and good-smelling Christmas soap. Boring. Practical. Everyday. Less than thrilling, exciting or intriguing. And yet, these little tokens scream my name. I’m in the kitchen a good chunk of every day. I hate stale crusty kitchen towels. I like to wash mine every couple of days. I believe they should be replaced as they fray and thin and wear out. I prefer them to match each other. I appreciate a good quality scented soap that invigorates and pampers me. But that’s just me, two things I splurge on. And I wanted my present to reflect the real me.
I was afraid to bring beauty products. Goodness knows they’d call my bluff in a heartbeat. What qualifies me to know anything about hair or makeup or nails? You all know me better than that. I don’t like chocolate even though every other woman I know does. I don’t own or wear fancy jewelry of any kind, and I certainly have no idea what’s fashionable as far as clothes. And I don’t think anyone really cares for my style in decorating (at least for their own houses). Basically I knew I couldn’t impress anyone, and so I just dug into my bag of just me.
My conversation with my friend reminded me of these original awkward feelings I’d had when I was first invited to a party of this sort. And even deeper, it made me aware that maybe we all have these uncertainties when presenting not just our gifts, but ourselves.
But here’s where I have to just be ok with my bundle of my favorite things. This is me. This is what I have to offer. I don’t know if it’s acceptable or desirable, but I am willing to share a piece of my heart with you. To be honest, I have no idea what happened to my gifts; for all I know they were regifted or put in someone’s Good Will pile. Just as I have no idea what people say once they leave a dinner or evening with us. Maybe our relationship will be relegated to the discard pile as well. But these gatherings have encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone, to ask myself what’s truly reflective of who I am, to engage with amazing women. But above all, I’ve come to enjoy these occasions as a joyous way to celebrate the season. And to celebrate the unique gifts each of us has to contribute. Beyond those wrapped in brown paper packages tied up with string.
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