This past December, I wanted
to do something on Facebook akin to the “Days of Thanks” that many of my
friends had done in November, so I went through a process each day of picking
out gifts that I felt I had received that day.
Not presents from family or friends that could be wrapped in paper, but
a gathering of intangible items which, for better or for worse, were making my
life fuller. These I posted on Facebook,
a place where quite a few of my more poignant observations tend to end up.
At the beginning of the month, I was surrounded by the
gifts of laughter and friendship several times, both from old friends and new
ones. There were even some old friends
made new as I reconnected with friends I had known long ago but only recently
brought to my digital friends list. I
began people watching in earnest, and started to see other, deeper things. The youth I work with had game days, but also
days of service. It was equally as much
a gift to watch young people pool money and take over a local Walmart to help a
family that had been through a tornado give their children a normal Christmas
as it was to be bathed in the breathless joy of laser tag on roller skates… and
if you think that’s easy, I congratulate you on your skill level.
Another thing I mentioned as time went on was the
insurance licensing classes I was going through. I was doing well, and then struggling, and my
posts mirrored the yoyo effect it was having on my life. The gift of perspective came to me as I
realized many of my friends and family are taking classes of one kind and
another and this kind of frustration is an everyday thing for them. I also commented on my admiration for the
people I am now working with, and the gift of finally having a boss who is good
at training and actually cares about the people he has working under him. I survived the test, another gift in and of
itself, and passed both sections after arriving at the site an hour and a half
late due to weather and fortunately being allowed to sit the test anyway. That was a HUGE gift.
I spoke a little later about
small gifts that helped me daily to survive: the gift of my boyfriend taking me
to lunch after a grueling day, for no reason other than that I was close by and
he missed me and thought I could use a hug… the gift of finally getting to see
snow (I’ll admit, right now that’s one gift I’d like to find the receipt for,
but at the time it felt welcome)… the gift of having the creativity to make all
the Christmas presents I was going to give, knowing I couldn’t afford to go out
and buy them. Things like that made me
feel a little more cheerful as the shrinking daylight hours began dragging my
mood in the opposite direction.
On December 13th, I
posted this gift: Today, I'm posting from
the train, heading home from a Shakespeare play. On this day, exactly ten years
ago, I had a driving adventure which ended with me becoming a citizen of
Illinois. The friend who welcomed me that night is the one I'm with now. Over
the years, we've been through marriage, children, divorce, death and even
stopped speaking... But as an old friend once said, pain is weakness leaving the
body. Tonight, it's all behind us. And I receive the gift of an accidental
anniversary celebration. Here's to the weaknesses that have left us!
Some journeys take longer than
others, and I refer to more than just train rides. As the month went on, the gifts were less
about trivial things and more about what makes life worth living in the first
place. A few days later, I posted about
resting and catching up on sleep and giving up the potential gifts of
fellowship in two places to give my body what it needed to keep up with my
generous heart. With less than a week to go before Christmas, I held
on to my health and happiness by an ever-unraveling thread, looking toward the
day I would be heading to Ohio and the family that was there. I missed friends who had moved away and my
daughter was also becoming antsy for the good stuff to get here already.
Love intervened. My boyfriend’s family helped to pull my
spirits up again, twice. After suffering
through a migraine, I had a few short breaks for parties, but those gifts made
it harder to deal with the ordinary days after which were still not quite
Christmas yet. I counted weakness as a
gift, because it caused me to slow down and think and to take better care of
myself. Day by day, I was determined to
make it to Christmas. When it turned
from a catalog of gifts into a battle for my sanity I’m not certain, but it
did.
On Christmas Eve, I dropped in
on a friend’s business and we mused about how some people find music and
spontaneity a curse to endure rather than a gift to rejoice in. Interestingly enough, the people we were
frustrated with were some of the people who were a part of my greatest gift of
all…
When
I returned home from my holiday trip, I found my apartment flooded. Over the next ten days, I received the gift
of having friends who repaired my car (which had issues when I got home as
well), housed me and my daughter, included me in their own lives when mine was
in an uproar and even paid the boarding charges for the extra days my cat
needed to stay out of the apartment until it was safe for us to return
home. One of them still has my guitar,
which I need to retrieve. The greatest
gifts seem to come when we least expect it.
Then again, Christmas is like that, always surprising us with what sorts
of gifts we will receive. Our challenge
is simply to allow others to be generous.
No comments:
Post a Comment