Creating Special Moments

This post is inspired by a story by Stuart McLean called "The Mystery Book" which can be found here: http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/pastpodcasts.html?44#ref44

Have you ever secretly done something that you expect, or perhaps just dare to hope, will profoundly touch another person's life? Something that they are sure to cherish as a special memory for years to come? Something that takes a little extra thought and imagination, but once you find the idea, you know deep within your being that this is something that is Special?

Sometimes I have had that feeling, and I recognized it when I first heard that story a little over a year ago at the Vinyl Cafe Christmas Concert. When I heard that the story was being aired this year, I was especially glad as it is one of my favourites.

Yet, having recognized that feeling, I was hard pressed to come up with the examples of when I've actually experienced it first-hand.

Since I've had a year to reflect on it, I did come up with a few that I'd thought were sure winners, but upon reflection, didn't actually work out that way.

There was a hand-knit sweater I made from hand-spun designer yarn that cost more than I'd ever consider investing on a project for myself, but was perfect for the woman who would wear it. I was excited about the project--I researched pattern after pattern to put together something especially suited to her in colour, texture and form. I knit and re-knit parts until they met my satisfaction. It was perfect. Except she started menopause and didn't wear it due to hot flashes, then lost weight and it didn't fit her. She no longer has it--I think it went to Goodwill. I would have re-used the yarn and knit something else had she given me the chance.

Then there was the year that my parents were invited to a getaway with a group of friends and asked me to babysit for them that weekend. I was taking a double course load at university, and that weekend fell in the middle of exams. With 6 exams and 4 major papers, plus the demands of work, I just couldn't swing it. They were disappointed to say the least. So I saved up, eating Mr. Noodles for supper and taking on extra shifts ushering at the theatre and serving coffee at a campus coffee shop, and bought them a weekend getaway. I planned it when exams were over and watched the kids for them. I picked out concert tickets, booked them a reservation at a nicer restaurant, and bought them a suite at the hotel along with champagne and brunch. My dad said he slept through the concert I sent them to, and although they enjoyed the brunch, the rest was essentially a flop.

I did buy books for my own younger brothers, and often. I chose a variety, particularly favourites from my own childhood and classics. While they tended to ignore them for a while, eventually they both found the Lord of the Rings series inspiring and are now avid readers. Maybe that wasn't a total flop, but they weren't "sparkly special" the way I always hoped they'd be. I also tried to share my passion for nature with them by taking them along with my boyfriend on camping and canoe trips.

In the end, none of these was particularly special as it goes, at least not to the receivers. And maybe that's not the point. Maybe it's all about the sharing, caring, planning and just plain thinking about the person that really matters. Maybe these sorts of acts of sharing, although intended for others, are really for ourselves. And maybe that's not such a bad thing, if it allows us to continue giving, sharing, planning, spending the time and considering others despite the setbacks. Maybe it's one of the things that makes us alive.

Who knows--maybe Sam tossed out the book Stephanie bought for him. It's possible that he missed the point altogether. It would be quite likely that he would have a completely different experience than the one she had had with her book. Perhaps for him it was just a book and nothing more.

But the caring and sharing that came from that act, I believe, is what it's all about. And like some kind of twisted Karma of giving, I have to believe that it made a difference, a positive difference, even if it might not have been the one intended.

Sometimes we need to be Santa, in order to feel real and alive. We need to share in order to truly appreciate the beauty and joy we've experienced in our own lives. It helps us remember the important things. The outcome is only a part of it; as with much in life, it's often the journey matters most.