Dorophobia, part 4

When I heard back from D (after my letter here), I found that I had completely misunderstood her: certainly her motives or intentions, and also what she expected of me. Here is what she said. The second and third paragraphs are absolutely critical in this regard:

Dearest Hosea,

If you tell me not to buy your presents, I won't. I respect your judgment, and I don't have to understand or agree with your reasoning. You are an adult and can decide what makes you happy or what doesn't please you and have that honored. I will do so, and stop giving you gifts.

That said, I never, ever expected you to give the books as a gift from me. I expected you, and still would like you to simply use the books for how they were mean to be used; to be read and enjoyed as a family. How you learned about these books is immaterial and can easily be explained without any reference to me. I certainly realize you could never tell Wife that I wish her well, although I do, but playing music that she might enjoy [this was D’s gift for Wife] did not seem out of line. She does not need to know that I discovered the music. Personal recognition does not matter. What matters is a richer existence than we might discover on our own.

It seems like the real issue here isn't about presents, for gift giving is honorable and has a long history. What strikes me is your lack of imagination. Returning the books to Amazon is the last thing I desire; if you don't want them or don't feel comfortable with them, simply give them to Hogwarts, or pass the CD to an organization that provides music for the less fortunate, or send the entire lot to http://www.firstbook.org/. Why did this never occur to you?

It is ridiculous to ask me not to be hurt. Of course I'm hurt and dismayed, because no relationship should be without the possibility of gifts. Gift giving can be just a social convention, but on a much more important level, it is fundamental. Our existence is a gift, and many good things, including our relationships with one another, are freely given and cannot be mandated, or made simple matters of "duty and responsibility". God himself transcends his own law and covenant in the Incarnation, a gift of Himself as fully human to us. In His example, we find the courage to give each other the gifts of love, presence, and connection. At times, that means accepting tangible gifts with grace and imagination; at times the gifts are more intangible. Yet, I worry about someone who cannot accept material possessions and use them in creative ways, not because the gifts themselves are particularly valuable, but because they represent something that cannot be easily expressed. The wise men -- note they were called wise -- gave gifts as symbols of what they understood to be the various dimensions of salvation offered to the world by the child they sought to honor. Jesus himself honored gift-giving when he accepted the gift of costly perfume poured over his feet; he recognized the woman weeping while she washed his feet, understood he was soon to die. Oddly, the names of the kings, even their number, have been lost, and despite Jesus' promise, we don't remember the identity of the woman who bought the perfume. Yet we remember the gifts. Gifts are precious because they can present, or re-present, something about the recipient that should be respected and honored, and in doing so, they bind us together. That you are not yet able to accept gifts is most unfortunate.

You are quite mistaken about being alone. You sometimes see yourself as an island, misunderstood and invisible. But "no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main..." and we share this understanding in a myriad of ways. If you cannot accept gifts now, it does not mean that you will be unable to do so in the future. I will wait for that time, and I will rejoice when it comes. For now, simply donate the books, and out of respect for my gift, send me the details.

I always love you.

--D