The Piano and the True Meaning of Gift Giving

Years ago, I received a remarkable gift. One that taught me that a true gift is given with love and sacrifice.

Except for the radio playing “it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” the commute home from North Dallas to the midcities area was turning out to be just like any other weekday commute. Cars were lined up bumper to bumper on I-35, all the way to the 121 interchange and beyond. I was so relieved to see the shiny, high rises disappearing in my rear view mirror that I yelled out, “Yea, for the holidays!” I then exited the toll road and pushed on the gas. December 25th was only 8 hours away.

An hour and ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway, pushed the garage door opener, and watched it go up.  Anxious to be home, I didn’t notice the yellow U-haul truck parked in front of my neighbor’s house. I parked next to my husband’s green truck, got out of the car, and opened up the back passenger door. 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, baby Jacqueline. Your first Christmas,” I said lifting my 9-month-old, baby daughter out of her car set.  Her big brown eyes melted my heart. That day was Jacqueline’s last day at her daycare. I was quitting my job at the end of the month and starting with a new company, so I could work from home. Working in the big city wasn’t as exciting as it once was, because the minute I got to work all I could think about was picking up my baby and listening to her coo, and giggle. My new job would give me more time to be a mommy. Becoming a family was certainly more than I could have ever hoped for. It did, in fact, change everything.

"We're ho-ome!" I called out as we entered the side door.  My husband greeted us and quickly whisked baby Jacqueline away.

“Hold her while I get dinner going and wrap a few more gifts?” I said heading for the bedroom to change my clothes.  As I shut the blinds, I glanced out the window.  Once again, I didn’t pay attention to the yellow U-haul in front of my neighbor’s house. I was too busy thinking about Christmas morning and how Christian and I were going to have so much fun watching our baby play with her new toys.

After dinner, we delivered some goodies to friends, organized the presents under the tree, put Jacqueline to bed, called family members to wish them a Merry Christmas, and finally hit the sack about 11 p.m. I had had a long and busy work week and within minutes of lying down I was out.

As soon as I was asleep, unbeknownst to me, my husband sprung into action. Now, Christian knew I was a sound sleeper, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. So, just as he had planned, he turned on the television for some background noise and placed a pillow over the side of my head. It wasn’t unusual for me to sleep with a pillow on my head. That was a skill I had learned in college, because my roommates were night owls. Since I had early morning classes, the pillow over my head remedied the noise factor so I could get some decent shut eye.

After getting redressed, Christian quietly shut the door to our bedroom. On his way downstairs, he turned up the heater.  That way the cold air from the front door being propped open wouldn’t wake me. He had thought of everything. He then headed out, into a chilly December night, over to our neighbor’s yard, where he climbed into the yellow U-haul, started up the engine, and backed it into our driveway.

To my surprise, my Christmas present was inside the back of that truck. It was a 1962, brown Baldwin upright piano; a gift he had been planning for some time. For years, I played on an electric keyboard, but I dreamed of having my own piano. I had never said it out loud. I only thought it. But Christian knew. He just knew. Getting a piano was the farthest thing from my mind because he hadn’t, yet, graduated from the University of Texas. We had a new baby and had just bought our first house. A piano, at least for now, was out of the question.

To my surprise, though, my husband had thought a lot about a piano.  He started calling on classified ads several months earlier and researching different used pianos. Money was also something he had to secretly keep from me. Saving $800 dollars without my knowing was quite a clever feat.

As Christian unlatched that back door to the truck and uncovered the piano, I’m sure he doubted, for at least a second or two, how he was going to pull off this surprise. Moving an almost 500 pound piano, up two front stairs, across a living room floor, and into a dining room, by himself, in the middle of the night, was not an  easy task, and doing it quietly was nearly impossible. But somehow, two hours and half hours later, my husband had accomplished the impossible. (I’m still not quite sure how he did it.) Next, he set up our video camera on a tripod at the bottom of the stairs, so the big surprise would be caught on tape.

Seven O' clock the next morning, right on schedule, baby Jacqueline woke up. I rushed into her bedroom, scooped her up in my arms, and said, “It’s Christmas! Let’s go see what Santa brought.”

“Hold on,” said my husband. “Let me go turn on the camera.”

“Oh, what a great idea,” I said. “Getting Jacqueline’s reaction on her very first Christmas, you’re brilliant.” I was clueless. After a few minutes, he said he was ready for us and gave us the go ahead to come down the stairs.

“Let’s go see what Santa brought,” I said bouncing my babe in arms. I waved her little arm and I smiled at the camera, thinking that the purpose of capturing that moment was about my baby and not me.

Little did I know the camera was all about me and my surprise.  My husband wanted me to see my reaction so I would remember it forever. And I do remember it.  I remember turning the corner and, to my astonishment, seeing a giant red bow wrapped around a 1962, brown, Baldwin upright piano nestled against the east wall of my dining room. Thanks to his forward thinking, that Christmas morning memory is a priceless family video.

“Ahh! What!?” my hand flew over my mouth. “You!? How!? Oh, my goodness you got me a piano!? Oh, I can’t believe you got me a piano!? What! How on earth did you get this in here? You could have killed yourself! What were you thinking!?” I said hitting him on the shoulder. “Do you know how heavy pianos are?”

“Uh, yea I figured that out,” he replied.

I began to cry and then I was speechless.  My husband went on to explain that my piano was in that yellow, U-haul truck all along.

“What U-haul truck?” I exclaimed. He told me he was so worried that, being the nosey neighbor that I was, he thought for sure I would question why our neighbors had a moving truck in front of their house on Christmas eve and go over there to find out why.  However, he managed to pull off my surprise without any hiccups.  Getting that piano into our house, all by himself, in the middle of the night, without waking me up, or our baby, was purely a Christmas miracle.  I knew I had received a remarkable gift, given with such for-thought, sacrifice and love that my piano became a symbol of what Christmas was truly all about.

“It needs a good tuning. And one of the keys kind of sticks.  But we can fix that,” he said quietly.

I didn’t care if didn't have any keys all!  Given out of love it was the most perfect piano EVER!

Christian and I have now been married 19 years this coming February. Since that 1996 Christmas, I’ve had several chances to upgrade my $800.00, 1962, brown Baldwin to a newer and more modern model. But I’ve never had the heart to do it. You see, every once in awhile, when I sit down to play songs, and my fingers hit those sticky keys, I’m reminded of a tender, Texas Christmas, in the home of a young couple, who was starting out their life together as a family, and, in that moment, I am gently reminded of the love and sacrifice it took to give me that gift, and I realize that there is no better sounding piano, anywhere; for the melodies it plays are priceless.

May this Christmas be a reminder to all of us to remember the gifts that come to us by way of love and sacrifice. Especially the sacrifice of the Christ child, whose birth we celebrate. The Savior, the son of God, paid the ultimate price for our eternal happiness. Of his magnificent gift, of life and death, let us be gracious receivers and value it like no other.

May the spirit of the holidays be with you and your family throughout the coming year.

With love,

Jodi