By Caitlin Van Hefty 
When my husband and I became parents, we quickly learned that people weren’t lying when they said, “Just to warn you, kids are expensive.” These little humans come with so much unconditional love and joy, but they also come with a long list of necessary items: baby gear, clothes, age-appropriate toys, nursery furniture, hiking backpack carriers, infant car seats, toddler car seats, and everything in between.
We also quickly learned the power of hand-me-downs. Items passed down from one family to the next, transitioning from a life lived in one home to the threshold of another. We eagerly accept these treasures, whether from a relative, friend, or random acquaintance at work who just happened to overhear me talking at lunch about my kid’s snow pants ripping down the seam.
Of course, most parents adore hand-me-downs because of the cost savings. Who doesn’t love to save a buck? Especially since kids outgrow everything alarmingly fast, we fully embrace free stuff whenever we can.
But hand-me-downs have a certain magic that goes beyond keeping our wallets happy. I love the fact that these items were part of another child’s life experience. Even etched in the signs of wear and tear, the item carries with it a special piece of that family’s history.
I loved seeing my son wear a baby Halloween costume that was once the adorable highlight of another family’s framed photo where smiling faces gathered around a cute little elephant with chubby cheeks.
I loved hauling him around in that hand-me-down baby carrier on our first family camping trip. I kissed the top of his head while we explored the trails, and I couldn’t help but wonder what other first discoveries were made by other tiny adventurers snuggled into those straps.
I love watching my kids play in our hand-me-down sandbox, a generous donation from a neighbor. A small circular space of discovery and imagination spanning several summers and different backyards.
I love seeing my kids play with vehicles that once zoomed around their older cousin’s living room as I wonder what previous imaginary worlds or couch forts these toys have adventured through.
Moments like these make me envision an invisible thread connecting these families to our own, binding the unique story of their homes to the one unfolding in ours. It makes me grateful for the moments of connection during the handoff exchange. The joyful parting words, “Here you go! I know you’ll love it!” And the teary ones, “It’s hard to give this away. There are so many memories attached to it. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as we did.”
In today’s society, we are constantly pressured to give in to the temptation of buying every shiny, new item promised to make our lives easier. But instead, what if we reveled in the magic of items that hold memories? Of items that hold a delicate history? Of items that remind us that the enchanting experience of childhood goes beyond the four walls of our own house and is something to be shared and celebrated with a larger village?
A couple of weeks ago at church, a lovely older woman noticed the ages of our two boys and offered us a massive box of Duplos. “Sorry,” she laughed, “you’ll probably have to wash them first. They’ve been in storage for a very long time.” We picked them up the following Sunday, during a bitterly cold January weekend when we were forced to play inside. The boys were giddy to get home and dump them all over our floor. They didn’t care about the dust one bit. As we thanked her, she smiled and said, “I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as we did.”
And for so many reasons, I know we will.
by Kris Ann Valdez 
