The word “gift” has been on my mind lately and it’s been churning, causing me to contemplate the significance of the term. A memory sparked, involving gifts. I’m certain that’s why it’s been lingering, nagging at me like a penny waiting to be picked up and examined.

Years ago, during family Christmas, we’d pile gifts in the middle of our grandparents’ living room. Sometimes, we drew numbers, other times, we’d go oldest to youngest or vice versa, to determine who would be first to select a package.

Each one of us scanned the group of boxes and zeroed in our sights. Some boxes were elegantly wrapped, complete with tulle ribbon and doodly-doos. If you follow Emily Carriveau on TikTok, you’ll get the idea. Beautiful works of art disguised in gift form, too pretty to open.

The next tier of gifts was wrapped in pretty paper, sure, but nothing special stood out. Peel-and-stick bows, maybe a gift tag. That’s it, a simple - and practical - gift.

A few gifts were from those of us who chose to procrastinate. Maybe the gift boxes were wrapped in the funny pages and packing tape. Some remained in the bag from the store where it was purchased. Clearly, others arrived in the original package because the gift giver stopped at a local store and grabbed the present on the way to the get-together.

Selecting a package involved strategy. Do you pick the biggest package? The best decorated? Take the gift you know you’ll actually use because it is unwrapped?

What is in the inside - the actual gift - should be what matters, right? Outward appearances can be deceiving. It comes down to perspective.

One year, daughter Amanda wanted to take part in the grownup’s gift exchange. She made a goodie basket filled with homemade cookies, loaves of homemade breads, brownies and jelly. She poured a lot of sweat equity into the gift, reviewing recipes, making trips to the grocery store to purchase supplies with her own money. She found a Christmas-themed basket at a local thrift store, placed a dollar store holiday towel in the bottom, tossed in some shredded tissue paper, arranged the foodstuffs, wrapped it in color cling wrap and added a raffia bow. It was simple and heartfelt, crafted with her own hands (and money), a useful and delicious gift worth receiving.

One of my cousin’s wives received Amanda’s present and kept making rude remarks about the lack of money spent on its contents. Obviously, she didn’t make a lot of homemade goodies and realize the expense. I was furious and, in true LuAnn fashion, let her know how ungrateful she was. Manners matter, my parents always said.

The same year, I ended up with one of the fancy gift boxes. Elegant, angelic wrapping paper, coordinated gold ribbon and bows. Once opened, I found a small tchotchke, nothing special, definitely no thought poured into its selection. Heck, it may have been regifted (and that’s okay). In true LuAnn fashion, I thanked the individual for the gift. Manners matter, my parents taught me.

That present has moved with me from my then-home in Neligh to Norfolk, to the farm south of Ewing and finally, to Clearwater. It’s a solid reminder of how packaging can be deceiving.

Lately, I have realized that this sparked memory can be applied to other areas. Some things can be wrapped to look so spectacular and yet, the contents are in disarray or are nothing more than an empty attempt to show grandeur, all the gloss and glitter in the world cannot hide the lack of planning and substance within.

When you receive a gift it stays in the heart and mind long after the eyes see it. These great gifts usually are the most heartfelt because it’s something the giver specifically planned and maybe even made a sacrifice for, a gift not to be taken for granted.

Isn’t that the type gift we all want to give and see?