Gift Wrapped

See this lady? She is not me! When I get done wrapping gifts (as I have been forced to do with the impending Christmas season), I am neither smiling, or holding a package that looks like that. I HATE wrapping gifts. I have no talent for it. With children in the house, I have been able to let people assume that they are the ones who actually did the wrapping. When I get comments like, "Oh- how sweet. Lily must have wrapped the gifts this year!", I just smile and nod.

I hate it so much that I often times will purchase gifts that don't NEED to be wrapped. Gift certificates and money can be easily slid into cards. The invention of gift bags was like a light at the end of the tunnel for me. I can go to the dollar store and purchase a variety of sizes to hold the booty I am wanting to distribute. After awhile and a few large gift giving occasions, you can stockpile a closet full of them and use them again. I love it!

Since I procrastinate the gift wrapping debacle as long as possible, some of my friends have shown up to exchange gifts BEFORE I've had a chance to cocoon them in yards of hastily cut Christmas paper. They have left my house with their naked gift in tow. I make my apologies, but the embarrassment isn't greater than handing over something it looks like the dog chewed on....so I figure I'm about even.

For almost 10 years I was in the direct sales business and our core product was baskets. This too afforded me the ability to avoid wrapping gifts. My disdain for all things paper and tape made for a great sales pitch, and the Christmas season was especially great for my business. I found many like-minded individuals who understood my rationale that if you put the gift in a basket with a wad of fluffed up tissue paper it was not only a very ATTRACTIVE gift, but then the basket was part of the gift and you weren't wasting a lot of money on boxes and wrapping paper and stuff. I actually think my family was a little disappointed when I gave up that career. I know my customers were, and now they are all running to the Dollar Store snatching up gift bags in a frenzy, attempting to build a stockpile in their closets.

As I reflect on my horribly mangled-looking packages crammed under the tree this Christmas, I think of how it is a good thing my gifts are not judged by their outward appearance. The things I bought and are giving to my friends and family were well thought out and given with love, but if they look at that mess of shredded paper and huge wads of tape, they may wonder what is inside, and if it worth the extrication process. It is!

Hidden within the confines of festive paper and badly tied ribbon is love. No matter what our outward appearance. a treasure lies within us, just waiting to be unwrapped. Some of us have an abundance of padding, some may have things poking out in places where it doesn't seem like the seams meet, but when you peel it all back, underneath you will find the most inspired and divine things. Never underestimate the content based on the shell. Thank goodness God breathlessly anticipates the gift instead of turning up his nose at the wrapping.

To my Santa Critics....

This is not an original work of mine- it was passed to me through the internet- but I want my 'Santa critics' to read it and tell me that Santa cannot be a reflection of Christ's love. When I speak of the magic of Santa and defend my right to allow my children this fantasy- these are the examples of humanity that come to MY mind.

Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl. "Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your sister?" "Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly. Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted. "What is it?" Santa asked warmly. "Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. "The girl in the photograph ... my granddaughter ... well, you see ... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa ... any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do." When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital. "Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face. Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.

"C'mon .... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall. Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"

"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IV tubes in tact. Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room. As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.

As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels. "Oh, yes, Santa ... I do!" she exclaimed. "Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you, "he said. Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night all is calm, all is bright." The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.

"Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or toys -- but the gift of HOPE. "Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.

Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him. "My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.

One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap. "Hi, Santa! Remember me?!"

"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.

"You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed --and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed. Cancer free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!

One Way Ticket

I have a ticket. My destination is clear. It was given to me by a generous donor that everyone should know. He pilots the plane. It is a one way, first class, non-stop ticket to paradise. The view couldn't be better and the seat is top notch. All I had to do was ask for it and it was given without hesitation. No strings attached.

At first I thought the offer was too good to be true...kind of like those internet offers where you can get a free gift card to Applebees if you just click HERE. Once you do, you realize you have to answer questions, commit to buying something and give out personal information that others could use to plot against you. I tried claiming one of those tickets once, and saw that it led absolutely nowhere and wasn't worth the price I had to pay in the end.

Thing is, when I signed up for this ticket, I was given the assurance that my safety was secure. There was no need to purchase additional insurance. I wouldn't need luggage, so in the meantime I had no worries about the trip itself. No need to pack. No need to save....there would be no need for money once I reached my final destination. I wouldn't be coming back (and wouldn't want to), so I wouldn't need to buy any souveniers. Until my boarding time, I could just trust that all of my travel arrangements have been taken care of.

I was asked if there was anyone I would like to travel with. When I came up with a few names, I was told that all I had to do was convince them somehow to come and ask for their ticket also. They were already printed and just waiting to be claimed. There would be no charge...no hidden fees....no tax....I wanted to tell everyone. I even talked to people I didn't know so that they could claim their tickets too. It was such a wonderful offer, I couldn't keep quiet about it. People saw how happy I was to have my ticket that some of them even asked me about it first! I was happy to share all the information I had!

I was given an instruction manual to make preparing for my trip easier and more enjoyable. It didn't say anything about the fact that there wouldn't be trouble, but it gave specific instructions on how to deal with every problem, so as long as I read my manual, there should be no concern or anxiety while I waited. The solution to every glitch was simple- I just had to ask. The pilot was more than willing and more than capable of handling everything.

I'm really looking forward to my trip. I don't know my departure date. That isn't printed on my ticket. I don't want to leave before I have to, because I know that those I leave behind will be sad to see me go. They shouldn't be, 'cause I'm going to LOVE my eternity in paradise.

EXTRA Ordinary

I had a unique experience yesterday. I was able to witness to an old acquaintance of mine whose life has not traveled the path he had hoped. He phoned me from jail (again). He lamented the fact that he was there, and tried to deny the fact that it was his own mistake that put him there. Oh- he tried to say the blame belonged to the person who dialed the phone. He tried to say the police were to blame....but in the end, after I continued to ask the same question, he came to the understanding that it was HIM. I just calmly kept asking, "Whose fault is it that you are there?"

In the past, when I have counseled him in these areas, he has gotten angry with me, with God, with others. In the past, I did not have God guiding my words. I truly felt the Holy Spirit speaking through me as he and I spoke yesterday. In the past, my words were spoken to him by a wife and a judge. Yesterday they were spoken by a friend and Christian sister. As his mood began to escalate, God was more powerful. What I said seemed to make sense to him for the first time. I don't remember my actual words being much different than the thousand other times we have spoken, but with the power of God behind them, his mood dispersed and he was open to their message.

We talked about entitlement. He claimed he was entitled, as one of God's children, to be happy. I countered his comment with the observation that to me, it seems we are not ENTITLED to anything. We have done absolutely nothing to deserve any sort of happiness, and that every shred we are given is a gift. (There was silence).

When he sobbed about the persecution of his life (and it HAS been a tough one!), I asked if he had seen the movie The Passion of the Christ. I asked him to remember the whipping scene and challenged him to recall an event on his own life that could rival THAT persecution. I also asked him if Christ deserved what he endured. To think that we deserve to be treated better than Christ, seems arrogant to me. Why should we endure less pain and suffering than our Savior? Why should we EXPECT to? (Again- there was silence).

He ranted about how people had treated him unkindly and said horrible things about him. I asked how he spoke of them. He had used some unkind words to describe his new wife, and I told him that if he wanted her to speak highly of him, he needed to speak highly of her. As the words left my own mouth, the counselor became the counseled.

I didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. I'm sure he called for sympathy. I gave him anything BUT sympathy. I told him what he NEEDED to hear. I told him time and time again that my words were harsh, but they were truth and that they were spoken in LOVE, not judgment. I held him accountable with God at my side, and it made a difference. For once, in 15 years, I felt like I made a difference with him. Our conversation ended with him in tears, thanking me for my friendship, my guidance and my compassion (not sympathy!) I also left that conversation being convicted of the mistakes I was making in my own life and relationship.

As Christians, we are called to hold our fellow Christians accountable to what Christ has asked of them. We can do so in a loving way. We need to ask God to open the hearts and minds of those we confront in order to be able to speak the words boldly and with confidence. In doing so- we need to open ourselves to those words, because they are from God, and intended for MAYBE more than one set of ears! Trust in God to guide us , and He can take an ordinary conversation and make it EXTRA ordinary, and we might have wisdom to correct our own lives in the process!