To take
On a day when the sun shines, someone ahead of me at a metro station holds the door, and the day brightens further. Later, a five year old at the corner store extends her bag of sticky candies and offers them with a bonus, her incandescent smile.
When I thank the neighbor who shovels our building's steps, he says "Bienvenue, madame!", the first word vernacular Québec French for "You're welcome". (No, he is not welcoming me to the city.)
Tiny courtesies and favours stoke a quiet glow of goodwill. I fall asleep thinking, That was a good day.
The next day, I invite a friend to lunch and after we enjoy our sandwiches, as I pay the cheque, she says, "I'll leave the tip." My glow flickers. Why, I wonder, do women do this?
Mostly, I guess, because of an urge to contribute. However, this offer takes the charm off the gesture of treating someone, and results in a middling transaction, where neither party has given nor received wholly. I ask if she would kindly accept that small treat in the manner in which it is given: unreservedly. She rolls her eyes and sighs, Ohhhkay. (I imagine, in a thought bubble over her head: Duchesse is touchy about the weirdest things!)
Another friend divides people into givers and takers, and says givers are uncomfortable when accepting favours. Behaviours at which women leaders excel—nurturing, giving back—are classic giver-qualities. I wonder, can we also take (when it is appropriate), without the shadow of unworthiness or undertow of obligation?
The ability to take also supports the ability to ask for what we need. And if we ask, but then cannot accept? Now that is a bind. Although we can't choose those moments when someone gives, we can develop our comfort with receiving, with gratitude. That behaviour is especially challenging as we grow older. Protective of independence, some elders reflexively refuse any kind of help, and then, as the offers dwindle, realize they are bereft.
Sometimes a friend, a stranger, or the universe will offer us a little goody. Take it! Soon enough, it will be our turn to give, and one day we will need more help than we ever thought. Let's prepare by relaxing our fierce, false front of independence, at least in small, sweet moments.
Comments
Giving is so much easier than "getting" or receiving....I will try to work on it!
(And, LPC, A Simple Thank You will Suffice is your bumper sticker I sported on my car for over a year. Thank you. )
Their desire for independence has become a burden on those who would love for them to keep their independence safely.
Materfamilias is quite fortunate to have a father who got both sides.
@Rita, when a friend receives a gift with "You didn't HAVE to", I usually reply "No, but I WANTED to." For me, wanting to share is the most beautiful impulse humans have.
Pseu: Oh, yes! Someone I worked with told me to quit doing that (diminishing) and I've always appreciated her counsel.
materfamilias: So touching. My hunch is that your father accepted your love, and loved you so much himself... a special man, I can tell.
Mme: Gifts do involve the principle of reciprocity, which some cast as "obligation". My mother was like that too; at times refusing even gifts she had broadly hinted she would like.
hostess: There are lots of women who do that, and that's what I'm pondering: why is it so hard to accept a small gift?
LPC: Yes, that is a comment of another generation and really, does a grownup need to be told what to say? My hunch is your mother delivered her reply with so much charm that the words were not that important.
Susan: Two complementary ways of being, as you point out.
Nelson Bartley: I've been there... there is nothing as desirable as care from a loved child, even though in your case that's not practical or sufficient.
Dr. VO: I have long written about the cultural import of gift giving, and that we were a gift society before a money society. It is the oldest form of exchange. I recommend Margaret Visser's book "The Gift of Thanks", fascinating and beautifully-written, as are all her books.
Now, no more of that tip business ;)
Rita: A very inept thing to say, yet it has become such a cliché that a person utters it without thinking. I usually say some version of Rubi's words, but the act has been diminished, slightly.
rubi: I brought a gift to a birthday party for a woman I had never met, and she said, "I can't tell you how wonderful it is to get a gift from a stranger." I loved her frank pleasure.