Last week I mailed the last of my thank you cards for my wedding presents. They have all been composed, addressed, stamped, and mailed. (Except for about a stack of ten belonging to college students that have moved.) Let me tell you, it was a fantastic feeling. As I handed the stack to the smiling post man (who kindly congratulated me for the feat of handwriting 150+ cards) I felt as if there was a weight lifting off my shoulders. As long as they weren't done I could not be at peace. There was always one more thing on my to do list, and my OCD did not appreciate the line on my list with no check next to it. Not that I actually get my to do list done now either, but I could!
I had the best of intentions of writing them all within three months of getting married. I wanted to be that girl. I had an image of one of my mother's friends getting my very timely card in the mail and saying, "Oh, what a sweet, perfect girl for being so grateful. Her mother obviously raised her right." Sorry mom. I failed you. Rather than getting them all in the mail within three months, as every etiquette book I've ever seen decrees, it took me eight.
I literally had nightmares about these thank you cards. I imagined ladies in my parents' ward meeting for Relief Society and comparing what I had written to each of them.
"My word! A truly grateful young lady wouldn't have written us all identical cards!"
I'm sorry! I got in a rut on my thirtieth card of the day! Dream-self responds.
"She only wrote three sentences to me and four sentences to you. She must not have liked my gift as much."
I loved it, I was grateful. I promise, I promise!
"She told me that 'every little bit helps.' She obviously didn't appreciate my sacrifice to give her a gift."
That was my husband that wrote that. See the man-like handwriting?
Logically, I knew that no one, especially not the sweet wonderful women of the 21st Ward, would ever compare or complain about thank you notes, but I still worried over every sentence, agonized over every word choice, and generally drove my husband nuts.
But that is all over now. I can now agonize over how awkward I am in my new calling, ward choir director. I really hope that every one knows how incredibly grateful I am for their generosity. The checks and cash we were given paid for our first month of rent. The kitchen appliances make it possible to make a lot of things from scratch, which saves a lot of money for poor starving college students like us. The gift cards keep us clothed and fed. I'm honestly not sure how we would be surviving without the combined generosity of family and friends. Every little bit did count. Thank you!
