Love Languages

My daughter and I went to Costco this afternoon. She encouraged me to make the trek by saying that it would be good mother-daughter bonding time, while I reluctantly agreed to go because there were some things needing to be picked up there. I typically don’t enjoy shopping, and Costco can often be one of the worst places to go. I am the sort of person who usually parks at the far end of any parking lot, but the parking insanity at Costco extends all the way to the far reaches of the lot. The insanity continues inside the building with slow-moving shoppers wandering aimlessly, sporadically, blocking aisles and creating traffic jams around the food samples. But I got in the car with my daughter and set out, even though a Costco trip is one of the last things I like to do on a Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t sure how much bonding we’d actually get, but you know I am happy to report that it was much more than I expected.

We talked about a good number of things really, but what sticks out the most for me is a little conversation about love languages and an idea that I have simmering away in my brain. The idea relates to a creative project that will end up being a gift for a friend. I am excited about the idea, and I have been twisting and turning it over and around, watching it take on slight variations in the process. Although it is exciting to me, I also feel a good measure of uncertainty, as is often the case when I feel creative about a gift. I second-guess my self, my gift, the creative process and end result. Insecurity hits hard. How will my gift be received? Will the receiver appreciate it? Will they understand my heart?

So, I shared my idea with my daughter, and, because I have concerns about the appropriateness of my gift idea, I asked for her opinion. She liked my idea and understood my heart, which is what led to the brief discussion on love languages. My beautiful, intelligent daughter blows me away. I think she completely nailed the way that I show love. I think I have known my love languages for some time, but hearing it out loud from my daughter hit me deeply in a fresh way. It would appear that there was mother-daughter bonding time on a simple trip to Costco, and, for the record, the shopping itself wasn’t nearly so onerous as usual.


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