Registered.

Less apologetics today, more domestics.

Few aspects of wedding planning thrilled my husband-to-be more than the prospect of compiling our gift registry. Scanning gun in hand, he roamed the Macy's home department with aplomb, selecting colanders, kitchen appliances and (his favorite) knife sets, all with "we're hunting, not shopping" glee.

Later, I quietly commandeered the process online, adding and deleting registry items as I fixated on the very likely prospect of these items being both viewed by our friends and family--and what messages each selection would send. "We don't have enough under $50 items!" I'd wail. "And having that $300 down comforter on there just looks presumptuous. Heaven help us if it doesn't show up on a one-day sale soon. Oy."

Thanks to the bottomless generosity of those same family and friends (and friends that are like family), we did indeed receive many of our gift registry items, and I'm proud to say that nearly all of them have been put to rigorous use since we began our household. (The wok, unfortunately, continues to baffles me, and hence it sits in the box until I summon up the courage--and the bok choy--to get it out.)

Amazingly, gift registry is upon us again, and in much of the same fashion. Though we lost our first child to an early miscarriage, God has blessed us again with another baby. So we find ourselves back in the saddle, wielding a scanner gun at baby superstores. Instead of knives and toasters, the items du jour have names like "Infantino Barn Babies Portable Teethers" and "Joovy Caboose Ultralight Stand-On Tandem Stroller." What?

I will give sincere props to anyone who's able to find these items again in a store, let alone decipher their meaning off an online registry.

In the end, I know both giver and receiver ultimately benefit from the symbiotic registry relationship. The giver knows the gift is what the receiver wants, and the receiver is happy to have those Infantino Barn Babies Portable Teethers all ready to go for the little one. The whole process, though, reminds me a little of the true Giver in life--the One who gives us what He knows we need, not necessarily what we've asked for.

Opening a few gifts the day after the wedding, husband and I opened a peculiar gift from long-time friends of my parents. The gift? Presumably a ring holder or decorative knick-knack made of frosted glass, in the shape of two--no joke--mating swans. Baffled, we snapped a quick picture with said procreating fowl and put it aside. A month or so later, my mother called us with news. She had found the store where the gift was purchased, and had taken it in not just to find its worth, but also, to understand why the couple had given it to us.

The result? It was a Lalique, costing upwards of $500 and a limited edition, numbered piece. The couple had wanted us to have something valuable to keep as a family heirloom, and to remember them in our family.

It stands as a reminder to me, going through the registry process again. We can plan, we can scan, we can check our lists twice. But should any more mating swans show up, I won't dismiss them so quickly. Often, givers know what they're (or what He's) doing.