I agree with my friend who said every baby deserves a party. And I hope I don’t forget that as more of my friends and acquaintances have babies.

But with this latest baby I wasn’t comfortable calling his party a “shower.”

Actually, I wasn’t comfortable calling Melody’s party a “shower” either, but changing the designation to a “welcome party” or whatever name we used still felt hugely obligatory in the gifts department (especially when a registry list was included in the invite).

I felt just a little embarrassed, and wanted to try again.

With this baby we didn’t send invitations, and only a few people knew I’d made a registry. I really did have nearly everything I needed, and didn’t want people buying things unless… I dunno, it was their idea. Unless they wanted to.

We had a quiet, chatty get-together at my grandmother/parents’ home. We had a slow, steady stream of visitors (several precious people I hadn’t seen for a long time), a small clump of gifts (nothing like the huge pile I experienced–and needed– with Natasha, especially), and pleasant conversation.

A couple times I actually felt a tiny bit disappointed we hadn’t gone the “big” party route, imagining this to be less of an event, and wondering if that somehow reflected poorly on Elisha, when compared with his sisters’ parties. But then I reminded myself that this was really what I’d wanted.

A baby shower I went to today brought this back to my mind. I watched the guest of honor opening the gifts, and remembered how awkward I always felt opening things in front of the givers, hoping I showed the correct amount of gratitude, and hoping also the inevitably enthusiastic thanks (for surprising, or particularly smart or needed, gifts) would not disappoint those who brought something more generic.

Watching the clothes (of mostly the same small size) pile up around her, along with the little toys and blankets, I decided I really was thankful for the way we did Elisha’s party. I think we got just the right amount of new clothes and blankets. More would have been redundant, and I’d have had to decide what to do with the extras.

Even a few of the odds-and-ends I’ve been wanting for months have managed to make their way here. A bunch of friends got together and bought me a baby carrier I’ve been looking at since before Christmas, and two great-grandmas gave money that provided a baby-seat and nursing pillow. I’d been looking at both for a while but hadn’t decided if I wanted them enough to spend my own money. As soon as they were gifts it was easy to pick an item that made my life easier .

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I might do another post someday about gifts, but for now I’ll say that my favorite kind to give or receive is the kind that “fits.” Something that the recipient can use or enjoy.

Some gifts, I’ve noticed, are just given because it’s the way the givers express they value the recipient (I’m thinking here of the sometimes-useless wedding gifts every couple must decide what to do with ).

There is a quote (in a slightly different context) in the book I’ve been reading for Sunday school. It’s said to be an old Chinese proverb: “Nothing can atone for the insult of a gift except for the love of the person who gives it.”

The author points out that the gift represents a need of the recipient, and insults by implying he or she can’t meet that need alone.

Especially in terms of the weird/useless gift category this proverb means something else to me: The love of the giver adds value to a gift that otherwise has none. Picture the wilting bundle of dandelions, their hollow stems half-crushed by excited little hands, being put in a vase on the table. Its whole value comes from “the love of the person who gives it.”