For your amusement- if you haven't read any of my little book-- here is a humorous  about a certain Christmas gift that was actually retold on front page of the Asheville Citizen a few years ago. Anyway-- it is in the spirit of "life at the Moore's" -- so here you go: For my birthday, I received a beautiful ceramic giraffe for my office.  It was an especially surprising present because it came from James.  I was expecting a gift like the one he had given me for our wedding anniversary a month earlier- a flashlight.  James’ style of gift-giving is unique, to say the least.

On our first date, James had me wait in the car while he ran in to a drug store to buy me a little token of his affection.  I thought that was awfully sweet of him.  I imagined getting something like a box of chocolate, or maybe some perfume.  Instead, he emerged with a little bag, presented it to me, and eagerly awaited my response.  My gift?  A pencil sharpener.  Not just any pencil sharpener, mind you, but a wall-mounted purple one.  I had to give him points for originality.

Last Christmas, I pointed out a toy organ to James at the dollar store.  I remarked that it would be a fun thing to play with on Christmas morning.  It was very inexpensive, and even had batteries included.  We played on it for a few moments in the store, having fun with all the sounds programmed into it.

A few days later, James came into a little money, so we went shopping. Our first stop: The dollar store, of course.  James asked me to go to the car, and I thought I knew what was going on in his head since he could barely contain his excitement.  He was going to buy me the organ.  

I was a good sport and went on out to the car. James soon came out grinning, holding a tightly-closed bag.  It was so thin I could see right through it.  I averted my eyes so that I would not actually see it for too long and thus spoil his surprise.  When he got to the car, he carefully placed the package on the back seat.  However, he placed it upside down, and suddenly it sounded like somebody was beating the heck out of cymbals in the back of the car.  I turned on the radio to mask the sound, which was quickly silenced.  We drove the short distance home without much trouble until we hit a bump in the driveway.  Out of the blue, a trumpet blared from the back seat.  Mercifully, it stopped quickly and I was able to sing along with the radio and pretend it did not happen.  As we walked onto my front porch, yet another round of organ magic started up, and I ran inside as if I could outpace the speed of sound.  My son met us at the door and took the package from James.  This released a whole percussion section that sent Dusty scurrying out the back door and me dashing into my home office.  

Later, as the organ sat under the tree nicely wrapped, it was often played with gusto by our two very curious kittens.  Still, I think I feigned great surprise rather well when I opened it on Christmas morning, and James feigned great relief that I did.

We reap what we sow, and it is good to sow gifts of time, shared experiences, humor and love