Husband's grandmother, Grandma Jo, is on a fixed income. She lives in a poor rural area in Oregon, an area mostly known for the local drunkards. She makes ends meet based on her social security check each month. Her manufactured house is all but completely falling apart. And yet, on an almost monthly basis, we receive packages in the mail from her. Gifts for Baby Girl. Gifts representing the money she could have used to buy groceries and instead lavished on Baby Girl.

It began when I was pregnant. Before we found out what we were expecting, Grandma Jo was sending gifts. Neutral colored baby blankets. Rattles. Outfits. When we learned we were expecting a girl, the gifts changed to "pink" items. Photo albums, decorated with pink gingham and white lace. Little pink dolls. More baby blankets, this time pink.

Husband and I worried that she was spending money she shouldn't spend -- or didn't have to spend. We always thanked her graciously for the gifts, but secretly we accepted them with reluctance. We didn't know how to broach the subject with her, and instead turned to Husband's parents. Don't worry about it, they said. It makes her happy.

The gifts kept coming. Sometimes it's something simple in the mail, like a note with stickers tucked inside. Sometimes it's grander, like a stuffed animal. Sometimes it's clothing. Whenever a package arrives in the mail, Husband's and my eyes meet, both thinking the same thought. She shouldn't have.

But last fall, during our trip to the Oregon coast for Husband's brother's wedding, I had a conversation with Grandma Jo that opened my eyes -- and heart -- to understanding her motive behind the gifts.

Our conversation started with her tales of Catholic school, something I never knew she was a part of. To this day, she is a devout Catholic, and I had no idea. Our conversation took us back in time to her childhood, then brought us forward to her child-raising years. As we talked, her eyes continually lingered on Baby Girl, who romped and played and laughed nearby. Grandma Jo kept trying to hold her and cuddle her, but Baby Girl wanted none of that, being somewhat reserved with strangers.

Grandpa Bud always wanted a little girl, she said. After three boys we tried again, but it never happened. He would have been real proud of this little one. He would have doted on her for sure.

It was at that moment I realized what Grandma Jo was feeling. By doting on Baby Girl herself, she was maintaining a connection to her deceased husband. All the gifts, all the love...it was partly for Baby Girl and partly for Grandma Jo and Grandpa Bud. Husband's parents were right. It did make her happy to spend the money on the gifts. It made her happy to know there was a little girl in the family -- finally. A little girl that would have put a big ol' smile on Grandpa Bud's face every day. A little girl that was long wished for and never found.

Just today we received another box. Inside was a beautiful quilt for Baby Girl. I imagined Grandma Jo at the store, sorting through the various quilts and blankets, looking for the one that was "just perfect." The one that perhaps Grandpa Bud would have said, I like this one. Let's send her this one.

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Dedicated to the memory of Grandpa Bud, and to the love that is passed on through the generations.