Easter is fast approaching.
Another holiday where Keith would have gone overboard on buying Brooke another new Easter basket along with lots of little extra gifts.
Keith always bought things.
Brooke never came home from a weekend visit where he didn’t take her to the store to buy something to bring home, even if it was the Dollar Store for some sort of token. Brooke loved this!
Brooke has more things than I have room for in her bedroom. I would get frustrated with him and ship bags of toys back to his place as a reminder that I don’t want endless amounts of things and to prevent him from buying more.
He never stopped. Giving gifts was Keith’s love language.
As a kid, he was really spoiled and was given things. This is how he expresses love to Brooke along with tons of hugs & kisses.
Gifts are not my love language and fall to the bottom of my love language list. As a clutter-free person, his trait was really annoying to me. His love language continued to trickle into my home, junking up her room.
How many stuffed animals can a child have? I have given away trash bags full through the years to charity. Life size stuffed animals that she treasured as a very little girl that she could completely lay on. Those really took up space!
Brooke treasures little things. Her daddy did such a good job filling that love language in her life. I look around her room, things everywhere, her daddy everywhere and I am so thankful for his love language that his love is still all around her.
I look around my office: Three handmade notes on my wall, a hand-cut heart-shaped “Mom you are my sunshine. You are my world.” “Good morning Mommy. I made you some coffee. Love, Brooke” “Good morning coffee is in the microwave. Love, Brooke” Homemade projects grace my desk: a plant in a brightly colored chair, flowers made out of paper, flowers made out of some object. Most recently a barite desert rose she brought home as my souvenir gift from her Spring Break.
Little things. Brooke expressing her love.
I’m thankful for all these little things now. I hope her daddy knows in Heaven that I am sorry for being so frustrated with him in the way he best expressed his love to our daughter.
All of these little things now mean everything.
Little things do mean a lot.
