Grace Givers
The season of giving. I've heard it from every social media outlet there is this year. Even from my toddler's little PBS shows rings the message that Christmas is about giving. I stress too much over finding the perfect gift for my loved ones. I try to visualize what their faces will look like when they open the present that is in some way meant to communicate that I get them and know them. For this reason, I have tried to master the perfect face and sentiment after opening a present to convey my deep thanks and gratitude. I am nailing it.
As a kid, my very practical uncle would give us the same gift every year. A bond. It was hard to hide our disproval at the time. We each would mumble out a "thank you, Uncle Larry"and most of the time that was even prompted through the gritted teeth, and eye roll in his direction and the bobbing heads of our parents. When it came time for my wedding and time to cash in those bonds, I can tell you that I was singing a different tune and the gift that was often tossed aside in the pile of presents, was now a gift that I was dependent on and truly thankful for.
My favorite Christmas was when I turned 10. My grandmother had taken me shopping that year and had made a mental checklist of all the things I had commented on or liked. I opened my Swatch Watch that year. No one had to prompt me to jump up and down and throw my arms around my beaming Grandmother's neck. She also got me that year a pink jacket that all of my friends were wearing at the time and I can remember waltzing into my school after break feeling like one cool 5th grader. Everyone thought so too. The best.
My Swatch Watch is long gone and no longer the must have gift of the season, and my pink puffy jacket didn't make it long past that one winter before it was past its prime. The bonds served their purpose and although they were fully appreciated years after the initial giving, once they were used they were useless to me.
Then there was this one time...it wasn't Christmas. It wasn't even my birthday. It was a day that I was at home with my 3 and 1 year old and probably hadn't left the house in a solid three days. A student from the bible college Rob was working at knocked on my door. In her hands she had a basket. At this stage in life, I can promise you that I was reluctant to let her in. We were living on the campus and our house was like grand central station at times with college kids buzzing in and out and dropping by for a nap or a snack or a person to listen to them. It was a busy time for me and although I absolutely loved it, with two little girls and a busy husband, I know there were times that I wanted to curl up in a fetal position and suck my thumb. She was persistent, though. The girls were napping and I can remember being hesitant to allow anyone in during that all too sacred time. She proceeded to empty her basket of its contents and gave me a full foot massage. While my tired feet were soaking she went to the kitchen and boiled some milk and made me a cup of my first chai tea. I don't even remember her name but it was such a gift to my tired heart (and feet!) that day.
Over the years, I have been the recipient of such gifts many times. Too many to recount here. I have been blessed with people's attention to my story. Late night phone calls from people who haven't been able to get me off of their heart, spontaneous flowers, baskets left on my doorstep filled with fresh veggies and mint, cards (and now texts!), unsolicited offers to babysit and enjoy a night out, coffee with a friend who asks lots of questions about how I am and what I think...these are the gifts that I have received that have served me well past their giving.
I was recounting some of these yesterday and my heart just swelled. These are the gifts that last. The gifts of grace. Where another person wants to be a part of your journey and links arms with your story and jumps in. This is a gift. When they don't have to understand why you do the things you do, or don't do. When they don't need to know why.
When they just love you.
If there is one thing I desire right now in the stage of life I am in, it is to grow in the knowledge of grace. First and foremost to be filled to the brim with thankfulness to God for the grace He has poured into my heart. Every day. When I don't deserve it. I pray too that I will grow in the way to communicate that same grace to those around me.
I am challenged to remember that it isn't always a physical gift that many are aching for. Sometimes, the gift of grace forgives a wrong or chooses to pursue after being hurt. The gift of grace can be that I think the best of someone instead of listening to my own lying heart. It can be jumping into a situation that is messy and long and one that requires you to say that you're sorry a lot. Truly, this gift can take on many different forms and can look different from person to person.
It is this extravagant one way grace that sent Jesus to the cross for me. His grace was intentional and purposeful. It was sacrificial and it was humble. I am praying that God continues to speak this into my heart every day. Only then can I be a grace giver. It is not within me to be that apart from Him. He is the giver.
So, yes. It IS the season of giving, but how my heart aches for the world to know the gift that was given to the world through the incarnation of Jesus. How I long for them to know this life-altering, life-changing, hope bringing gift of grace to us. Maybe it can be through me. Give me eyes to see, Holy Spirit. A heart like yours.
"Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant-not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." 2 Corinthians 3:4-6
As a kid, my very practical uncle would give us the same gift every year. A bond. It was hard to hide our disproval at the time. We each would mumble out a "thank you, Uncle Larry"and most of the time that was even prompted through the gritted teeth, and eye roll in his direction and the bobbing heads of our parents. When it came time for my wedding and time to cash in those bonds, I can tell you that I was singing a different tune and the gift that was often tossed aside in the pile of presents, was now a gift that I was dependent on and truly thankful for.
My favorite Christmas was when I turned 10. My grandmother had taken me shopping that year and had made a mental checklist of all the things I had commented on or liked. I opened my Swatch Watch that year. No one had to prompt me to jump up and down and throw my arms around my beaming Grandmother's neck. She also got me that year a pink jacket that all of my friends were wearing at the time and I can remember waltzing into my school after break feeling like one cool 5th grader. Everyone thought so too. The best.
My Swatch Watch is long gone and no longer the must have gift of the season, and my pink puffy jacket didn't make it long past that one winter before it was past its prime. The bonds served their purpose and although they were fully appreciated years after the initial giving, once they were used they were useless to me.
Then there was this one time...it wasn't Christmas. It wasn't even my birthday. It was a day that I was at home with my 3 and 1 year old and probably hadn't left the house in a solid three days. A student from the bible college Rob was working at knocked on my door. In her hands she had a basket. At this stage in life, I can promise you that I was reluctant to let her in. We were living on the campus and our house was like grand central station at times with college kids buzzing in and out and dropping by for a nap or a snack or a person to listen to them. It was a busy time for me and although I absolutely loved it, with two little girls and a busy husband, I know there were times that I wanted to curl up in a fetal position and suck my thumb. She was persistent, though. The girls were napping and I can remember being hesitant to allow anyone in during that all too sacred time. She proceeded to empty her basket of its contents and gave me a full foot massage. While my tired feet were soaking she went to the kitchen and boiled some milk and made me a cup of my first chai tea. I don't even remember her name but it was such a gift to my tired heart (and feet!) that day.
Over the years, I have been the recipient of such gifts many times. Too many to recount here. I have been blessed with people's attention to my story. Late night phone calls from people who haven't been able to get me off of their heart, spontaneous flowers, baskets left on my doorstep filled with fresh veggies and mint, cards (and now texts!), unsolicited offers to babysit and enjoy a night out, coffee with a friend who asks lots of questions about how I am and what I think...these are the gifts that I have received that have served me well past their giving.
I was recounting some of these yesterday and my heart just swelled. These are the gifts that last. The gifts of grace. Where another person wants to be a part of your journey and links arms with your story and jumps in. This is a gift. When they don't have to understand why you do the things you do, or don't do. When they don't need to know why.
When they just love you.
If there is one thing I desire right now in the stage of life I am in, it is to grow in the knowledge of grace. First and foremost to be filled to the brim with thankfulness to God for the grace He has poured into my heart. Every day. When I don't deserve it. I pray too that I will grow in the way to communicate that same grace to those around me.
I am challenged to remember that it isn't always a physical gift that many are aching for. Sometimes, the gift of grace forgives a wrong or chooses to pursue after being hurt. The gift of grace can be that I think the best of someone instead of listening to my own lying heart. It can be jumping into a situation that is messy and long and one that requires you to say that you're sorry a lot. Truly, this gift can take on many different forms and can look different from person to person.
The gift of grace is an attention to someone else's story.
It is this extravagant one way grace that sent Jesus to the cross for me. His grace was intentional and purposeful. It was sacrificial and it was humble. I am praying that God continues to speak this into my heart every day. Only then can I be a grace giver. It is not within me to be that apart from Him. He is the giver.
So, yes. It IS the season of giving, but how my heart aches for the world to know the gift that was given to the world through the incarnation of Jesus. How I long for them to know this life-altering, life-changing, hope bringing gift of grace to us. Maybe it can be through me. Give me eyes to see, Holy Spirit. A heart like yours.
"Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant-not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." 2 Corinthians 3:4-6
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