Sharing makes spectacular

Last night I got home and had a package greeting me at the foot of my front door. It was from Grif, my old-man neighbor in Cali, who you’ve heard about before. It was rather heavy, and I desperately wanted to open it immediately, but looking at the clock, I had a very limited amount of time to shower after having gone to the gym and then get back out the door to meet people for dinner. So, I threw it over by the tree until later.

When I got home, I plopped down and opened. First, a card. He had gone to the store and picked out a very sentimental card from Hallmark. The words “Remembering You at Christmastime...” decorated the front. The inside was more text about how special I am and how much he thinks of me during this season. My heart melted. He doesn’t get around very well. He has trouble going up and down the stairs to his apartment! So, all I could think about was the fact that he had made the effort to get to the store and sift through cards to pick out just the right one. All for me.

Second. A business-sized envelope labeled in his handwriting: “Heather Things.” Inside were pens...pens I knew he had gotten for free with his Reader’s Digest subscription. But that’s not the point. The point is, he knows I write. Pens are Heather Things. So thoughtful!

Third. Another business-sized envelope labeled in his handwriting: “Heather More Things.” Inside were 10 to 15 bookmarks of various shapes and sizes and colors. One had come from a used bookstore in Carlsbad, Cali, where I used to live. One was for the 1.800 medical hotline he can call if he has problems with his diabetes meds. One was black with an orange tassel and Garfield, saying “I’m cool. I’m cool. I’m a reading fool.” Again, not the most glamorous gift by any stretch of the imagination, but oh-so-thoughtful. Indeed, bookmarks are Heather More Things.

Fourth. Something square wrapped--a black box with my name engraved on it. In the box was uncirculated, limited edition state quarters. 10 of them. The last two have yet to be issued. I may or may not have had to blink back a tear. Grif doesn’t have much to expend in terms of money. The bookmarks and pens would have sufficed! But what he could give, he gave. He even engraved! I envisioned him having to direct someone on how to spell my name over the phone. All for me. It’s too much. Too much.

Anyways, the contents of that little box yesterday reminded me of the true reason for the season—to be cliché. Like my pens and bookmarks, Jesus’ birth in a manger of some sort was not exceptionally glitzy, sparkly or spectacular. What was spectacular though? the angels proclaiming the birth of Jesus to the shepherds:

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:
Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.
…all who heard were amazed.(Luke 2)

Jesus’ birth became pretty glitzy and sparkly when it was shared, when it was given away! When it was told!

In business-sized envelopes labeled “Heather Things,” Christmas became spectacular for me last night.