Gift-Giving – Another Take

For Christmas the year I was five, Santa brought me a “mama” doll. She instantly became my favorite, and I named her Mary Ann. By my seventh birthday, I had loved her so hard I had worn off her hair and her once-blonde wig had fallen off. Her rosy cheeks had lost their color from many kisses. Mary Ann had an open mouth and two tiny teeth. My brother had pushed the teeth inside her mouth so I couldn't see them. He also bit off the tips of a couple of her fingers and pushed in her weighted eyes so they were nearly invisible and didn't open and close anymore.

I loved her anyway.

The morning of my seventh birthday, I woke to the sight of a new doll sitting on the foot of my bed. I rushed into the kitchen to tell my mother how much I loved my new doll.

Mom looked at me funny. "Don't you recognize her?"

I looked closely and noticed the tips of her fingers were bitten off and some of the color was missing from her cheeks. “Mary Ann.” I held her even tighter once I realized she had been restored. Her teeth were back in place. Her eyes, once again, opened and closed. Nothing could have been a better present

Later, I learned my dad had spent most of the night repairing her, adding a new (and completely inappropriate) wig, and dressing her in new clothes.

She was my best friend throughout my childhood, including the following spring when my father died.

When my daughter, Kim, was little, she was allowed to play and sleep with Mary Ann, but only when she was ill. Kim knew how much my doll had meant to me, so for Christmas one year when she was in her teens, she found a beautiful doll dress at the thrift shop and gave it to me—and Mary Ann.

Years later, I told this story to the kids in church and drew a parallel to God. Dad had given me what I really wanted. I just didn’t know it. He'd restored my beloved doll. I believe God, too, gives us what we really need, even though it might not look as we expect.

As I told the story, I passed Mary Ann around and let the kids hug her. (She still likes to be hugged, and sometimes children visiting our home are allowed to hold her.)

My mom was in the congregation the morning I told the story.

When I finished, I looked at her and saw tears in her eyes. She shook her head. "We had no money for anything extra that year."

My dad had been in the hospital for months earlier in the year. Today’s unemployment insurance and other programs either didn’t exist or didn’t provide nearly enough money to live on. By the time he was well enough to go back to work, their savings had been depleted for food and other necessities.

Dad worked at the main Broadway Department Store in downtown L.A., so he had gone through the discard pile at the store and found the wig and clothes. Fortunately, he was clever with his hands and figured out how to fix her eyes and teeth. (I thought my daddy could fix anything. Both my brother and I inherited this ability from him.)

"I have always felt so guilty because we couldn't get you a new doll." Mom wiped her eyes.

I hugged her. “I always considered it one of the best gifts I ever received.”

I believe sometimes God uses our perceived lack to provide for our needs... 

Do you have any stories about how lack brought about abundance? I truly believe it happens—and I have my doll to prove it.

My Best Christmas Gift

Last week I blogged about the best gift I ever gave. This week, in the afterglow of the holidays, I want to tell you about the best gift I ever received.

The Christmas when I was five, Santa left me a mama doll. Mary Ann originally had curly light brown hair and wore a pale yellow silky dress. When I turned her over, she said, “Mama.” Her eyes opened and closed, and two tiny teeth and a red felt tongue showed through her open mouth.

She soon became my best friend. She went everywhere with me. I kissed her so often I wore all the pink from her cheeks. Her hair fell out from too much brushing, and eventually, her wig came off altogether. Unfortunately, my younger brother got to her. He bit the tips off some of her fingers, pushed her eyes back into her head, and did the same to her teeth. Of course, I cried with each loss, but I never stopped loving her.

The night before my seventh birthday, I realized Mary Ann wasn’t in my room. I asked my mother to let me look for her, but Mom insisted I go to sleep. She promised she and my father would find her. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The next morning, I awoke to see a new doll at the end of my bed. I ran to the kitchen to thank my mother. She gave me a strange look and asked, “Don’t you recognize her?”

When I looked closely, I realized the ‘new’ doll was my own Mary Ann. During the night, Dad had refurbished her, including a new wig and all new clothes. He had re-positioned her eyes and teeth. Once again, she opened and closed her eyes. The only give-away was that the tips of her fingers were still missing. But she was my special baby. And she looked even more beautiful than I remembered.

Many years later, I took Mary Ann to church with me and told the story of her refurbishment to illustrate how God gives us not what we think we want (a new doll) but what we really need (getting something beloved back even better than before).

My mother met me afterward with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you for telling the story. I always felt guilty because your dad had been hospitalized, and we had no money to buy you a birthday gift. He worked for a department store, and between his employee discount and the pile of items to be discarded, he was able to find the wig and doll clothes at practically no cost. He stayed up late in order to repair your doll, but we both regretted not being able to get you a new one.”

I reassured her nothing could have been better than to have my precious ‘baby’ restored.

When my daughter was small, she was allowed to play carefully with Mary Ann only when she was ill. She knew how much the doll meant to me, and she loved her, too.

For my Christmas gift when Kim was in her teens, she located a fancy doll dress at the thrift shop. Since Mary Ann’s old clothing was worn out, she needed something new.

My beloved doll still wears the ‘new’ dress, and once in a great while, a visiting child is allowed to hold and hug her. She now lives in the guest room closet along with a couple of teddy bears. And when I see her, I remember how much she meant to me.

She still does.

What was your favorite gift? Why was it special to you?