Everyone is gifted. But most people never open their package.
With three sets of grandparents, I hit the lottery with all of them. One couple were sweetly named Tootie and Pippi, a gift from our oldest cousin. We learned not to get tongue tied while calling for them, their names weren’t near as endearing when spoken wrong.
I spent only a few Christmas and family gatherings with my biological dad’s family, for several reasons that are neither here or there. When I was twelve, he died suddenly from a massive heart attack, taking any and all of our future time along with him. My poor grandparents were devastated, and grieved until they joined him. After his funeral, we all converged back to the family home in Claude, Texas. Because love requires we gather. When we arrived at the pink brick house, my cousins were persistent in requesting that our grandmother show me “my closet”.
My cousin Monica and I, Christmas 1978
My precious grandmother and cousins lead me to the hall closet. Inside, on the side wall, were stacks of wrapped presents with my name written on them. Presents for every birthday and Christmas I didn’t join the family. The feeling of being remembered still overwhelms me. While the rest of the family consoled each other, I sat in the living room floor and opened presents.
Socks and underwear for every year of growth, nightgowns with past-favorite cartoon characters on them, stacks of bracelets in every color, stuffed animals, strawberry shortcake dolls, care bears, a cabbage patch doll, and various other gifts. Presents that I never knew existed. Presents that would have remained unopened had I not shown up.
The Pritchett side of the family is a large one, filled with lots of cousins, aunts, and uncles. I never figured that I was missed at the family gatherings, as the house was always maxed out with people. Truthfully, most of those years, I was too young to even realize I was missing out. My life was full of beloved family members from the other sides as well. Yet, my grandparents felt the void, and prepared my gifts alongside the other cousins, in hopes that I would be there. Year after year.
I never thought about how my grandmother must have felt after Christmas until now. I wonder if she waited until the decorations were being put up to add my presents to the others in the closet. I wonder if our Creator feels the same way about the growing stack of unopened gifts we haven’t tapped into.
I can’t help but imagine that God has a closet of goodness for us, just waiting for us to show up for. Answered prayers and gifts that require time spent in His presence to open and develop. Gifts tied with gorgeous bows, waiting for our arms and hearts. How many unopened and untapped gifts are waiting with your name on it?
Perhaps we purposely or unconsciously avoid the gift closet, due to fear of the responsibility of a gift. How many times have we been given grace that we continually refuse to accept or believe deep down that we haven’t earned yet? How frustrating for the Gift Giver. How sad for the Gift Giver to open the closet, and add yet another, unopened box to the stack.
As a parent myself, I delight in watching my boys open gifts chosen just for them. Some they have asked for, and some are specifically chosen. Nothing random. I can only imagine the divine joy our Creator has when sitting back, watching us open and then use our perfectly chosen gifts.
My friend Casey is blessed with long, slender legs. She jokes that when torsos were being handed out, she missed the class, along with future make-up days for all torsos. I think torsos are overrated when you can have legs. We don’t choose the vessel we’ve been given, but we choose what we pour out and what we keep inside. We can replenish and sharpen our talents and gifts on each visit to the gift closet. We can show up and sit in the presence of the Gift Giver, hands out and hearts open.
Get ready to receive my friend. There are piles of goodness with your name written on the tag.
