Welcome to the Funny Farm by Karen Scalf Linamen

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27

    It’s the Heart That Counts
    I’ VE BEEN OUT OF TOWN.
    I spent Mother’s Day weekend speaking at the Terre Haute First Assembly of God, enjoying myself and falling in love with the wonderful folks at that church. I returned home Monday morning, pulling into my driveway at 2:00 A.M.
    Four hours later, I was awakened by Kacie calling my name from her bedroom. Thinking she was having a bad dream, I hurried to her side.
    She was still half asleep—in fact, her eyes were still closed—as she heard my voice and blurted, “Have you been to the kitchen table yet?”
    I said no.
    She tumbled out of bed with excitement. “Your presents are there! Let’s go!”
    â€œKacie, it’s six in the morning! Can’t we sleep a while longer?”
    She flashed me a look of sheer horror. “No! Your Mother’s Day presents are there! We have to go right now!”
    And so we did.
    That’s how I ended up, at 6:15 Monday morning, ooohing and aaahhhing over refrigerator magnets, a potted ink pen with a flower glued to the top, a handmade card, a new curling iron, and an iridescent purple blow-dryer. Larry’s gift to me was a Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker.
    I loved every gift.
    I told Kaitlyn the curling iron was a brilliant idea, since my travels have made sharing the same curling iron a challenge (I never mentioned the fact that I bought my own curling iron in Terre Haute this weekend).
    I told Larry the iced tea maker was great (I didn’t mention that this is the THIRD iced tea pot he’s bought for me, and that the other two are on a shelf in the laundry room because, in order to make tea, these machines require a pitcher full of ice, and I don’t have an icemaker).
    It was my turn, then, to give a few gifts. While on my trip, I picked up some sand-art kits for the girls and some candy.
    Kacie was particularly excited about the candy. She gripped it tightly in her hand and beamed. “I had this kind of candy once before!” she said happily. “But it was too much sugar and it made me throw up!” She paused then, her smile frozen on her face and one eyebrow raised, as the implication of her statement sank in: Maybe candy that resulted in getting intimate with a commode wasn’t such a great gift after all!
    Thinking back on the morning, I had to laugh. So many good intentions! But even the best intentions didn’t keep us from missing the target by a few inches on several of the gifts.
    Did that diminish the experience for me?
    Nah, somehow it just made the morning more precious.
    And I realized that the real gift—the one that really glimmered against the backdrop of beautifully wrapped curling irons and tea makers, refrigerator magnets and blow-dryers—was the enthusiasm of the givers.
    The real gift was the fact that Kacie’s first thought after our separation was not about what I could do for her, but about what she could give to me.
    The real gift was hearing from Kaitlyn that the iridescent purple blow-dryer cost more than the noniridescent purple dryer, but that she had been glad to pay the difference because she wanted me to have the very best one.
    The real gift was the sacrificial efforts of a dad who has severe allergic reactions to malls and who has been known to wrap presents in trash bags.
    God must understand this principle better than anyone.
    That’s why he cherished quarters from widows more than big bucks from hypocrites.
    Have you ever thought about giving something to God—a song solo during worship service, an hour a week teaching Sunday school, participation in a local outreach or ministry—and then didn’t do it because you were afraid your efforts would be less than perfect? Because you figured someone else could do the job better? Because you were terrified of making a mistake?
    Yeah, me too.
    What a shame.
    Because the truth is that our heavenly Father cherishes the quality of our passion over the