I am the worst present-wrapper in the world. Ever.
My squares, at best, look like rectangles and at worst like dodecahedrons. (I counted today…definitely 12 sides for that picture frame). My circles look like stacks of saltines, beaten for soup.
Yeah, I think you get the idea.
But I was humming. Humming! Me, the anti-gift person, humming while I did my anti-wrapping.
Joy like this just couldn’t be contained. “Guess what I’m doing!” I called Sherry. She answered the phone, and I’m pretty sure I squeaked in excitement. “I’m wrapping your present! Na-na-na-na!” Her shock that I had gone shopping was almost tangible through the phone.
I was humming, last night, too, when I finally found exactly what I wanted to give her. Of course, part of it was Barnes and Noble, so I absolutely had to go back, and while I was there, absolutely had to get a peppermint mocha. (Limited edition, you understand, it’s only with us for another few weeks!) I was humming in line, humming when the guy smiled at me and asked me what I had in my hand, then proceeded to lecture me about the true meaning of Christmas.
I smiled indulgently. I’m good at that. “People want flattery and sentiment, not truth!” he said out of the blue.
I blinked at him, three times in rapid succession. I, reading Rumi, am remembering a thing or two about Truth.
“They don’t want to remember Jesus. They want presents.” He pointed to the journal in my hand. It’s a beautiful journal, an inspirational one that I think will help her while she goes through grief counseling. She’s such an amazing woman, I hope that she rediscovers that one day soon. My gift was reflection, a bit of inspiration, and a little bit of decadence. A journal, a poem, and chocolate seems to cover all the bases.
“It’s a present for a friend of mine who lost her husband right before Thanksgiving,” I told him. “A Christmas present, but only by timing.”
“Ah–that’s a soul-present, not a Christmas present. That’s different.”
He was a strange man, and once I got my coffee, he wished me a very Merry Christmas, I did the same for him and toddled off.
But I was humming still. Humming when I went to sleep (between coughing up part of my lungs, which is starting to concern me, albeit slightly), and humming when I woke up.
And humming today, as I go now to get ready for work, all filled with cheer.
I think I’ve found Grace, but that’s another story in itself.