Today I finished a commissioned baby quilt. The tag is a hundred bucks. Last week I went to a craft sale by local artisans and picked out earrings and bookends to give as gifts. I spent ninety nine and change.

This morning a woman picked up the two pillows I made from her needlework. She handed me a Jackson. Last month I picked greens and root vegetables from a local farmer. The bargain price was twenty dollars.

Two people bought our songbooks to give for Christmas gifts. Thirty smackers. Ben is going shopping with his companion on Monday to shop for his friends. I think I'll send... thirty.

It would be possible to all just stay home and forget the criss cross of Christmas giving. But isolation is a booby prize. Maybe the recipients of the books and pillows wanted something different under their tree.

But then again maybe the threads of intention tie us all together like strings of lights. Even if I guessed wrong at least I'm guessing.