A group of women and girls met over two months to create soft dolls. They will be given to five year olds on Thursday, as part of a church celebration. Each doll takes perhaps a dozen hours to sew, stuff, embroider and dress. Every one is precious. One holds a felted bird. Another has a bonnet with lace over her brown curls. Yet another has red
hair and a knitted sweater.
Last year there was a mishap. One girl opened her doll to see it dressed in blue silk with blonde hair like Cinderella. The child next to her opened hers to find a sweet brown baby wearing a white cotton dress with black braids.
"I don't like her!! I want Cinderella!" she screamed. As chance would have it the maker of the doll, barely fourteen, was standing by in hopes of catching the grateful smile of the recipient of
her labors. She was horrified. I had to intervene.
Another dollmaker was in the room and quickly scooped another doll dressed in pink with a little purse into her arms.
"Here is Sleeping Beauty! See, let's put a bit of ribbon on her head like a crown." The girl stopped crying long enough to hear the sell. I slipped the unloved doll from her loose grip and whispered in the older girl's ears.
"I promise
she will go to someone who will love her."
A few minutes later a family walked through who had moved away when their father died. They had a little girl the right age. I quietly offered the doll to her mother and her eyes grew wide.
"She would love it! Thank you!" She bent down to show the doll to her daughter who wrapped her arms around the baby tenderly and closed her eyes. I sighed deeply.
I notice a
flutter of anxiety while wrapping this year's dolls. I cannot prevent disappointment or comparison. It would be possible to mitigate it by making every gift identical, but what does that have to do with real life?
Sometimes we are given spouses that make us howl, or children we want to give back. We may demand a refund on our bodies, or compensation for our losses.
I wonder how the Maker of those gifts feels when He hears us
rant?
