The Gift No-one Else can Give

I feel I’ve been wrapping gifts for weeks. There’s not all that many, but I’ve spent days and weeks thinking about what to get for each of my loved ones. What do they want? What would make them happy? Is there any gift that I could give them that would make them feel known and loved?

A gift can tell a story of its own – a testimony to hours of listening to someone’s needs, of observing his interests, of envisioning her passions. Homemade cookies for the busy one. Woolen socks for the one who’s always cold. Bicycle gear for the active friend. Invitations to coffee for the lonely. Art supplies for the art lover. A journal for the one whose soul overflows.

In addition to giving gifts based on their needs and wishes, I have found that I can give a gift that no-one else can give. I can offer them my heartfelt gratitude for their presence in my life.

I often wonder about the story in Luke 17 of the 10 men with leprosy. Jesus hears their cries for mercy and tells them how to receive their healing. As they follow his instructions  –  or calling, if you like  –  they are healed. Luke goes on to relating the reaction of one of the men, a Samaritan. He returns to Jesus, loudly glorifying God while falling face down at Jesus’ feet and pouring out his thanks for this wonderful, supernatural miracle.

Had they not all called out for mercy? Did not all of them get healed? Why did only one return to Jesus? Only the foreigner acknowledged the intervention of the living God and praised Him for it. He fell down on his face and worshipped. Ten men saw their bodies healed. Only one recognized the living God when introduced to him and had his soul healed.

For the last fifteen years, our family has had a special tradition. Each Christmas my husband and I select an ornament that will represent something that God has done in our family. We do this to express our thankfulness and to make sure that we always remember God’s faithfulness to us.

As we decorate the Christmas tree, I spend a long time studying the ornaments. They are our altars of gratitude, the birthing place of our worship. As I hold each and every single ornament I go back in time, remembering the circumstances, the tears, the pain, all our fears, and the joy that came in the morning.

The small aircraft to remind us of the jet ambulance that came to pick up our critically ill son in another country.

The birds’ nest to take us all the way back to the year our three foster children moved into our home to become a permanent part of our family.

The handmade angel marking the year our entire family participated in a Christmas play about how the angels received the infant Son of God on earth. Adrian was so weak he was sitting in a sheet covered bean bag on stage all through the play, but he was there. It’s well worth celebrating!

The motive from the Book of Revelation reminding us of the verses my father and I would read together toward the end of his life. I would read the first part of the sentences, and he, who had carried the word of the Lord within him for almost 8 decades, would finish them. There we were, celebrating his life with the Lord, as well as preparing for eternity. Such a tear-stained, difficult, joy-filled, and glorious time! I’m so grateful for it.

The map of Mozambique reminds us of many things, but among them the conversation we had with Adrian when he was sick. “I really wish I could go and see the babies in Pemba!” and our answer “Well, when you’re healed, we’ll go.” We’ve been there twice so far. Oh, the sweet, sweet grace of God!

On Christmas Eve, we place this year’s wrapped ornament at the dinner table. Then we ask our children: What is our family most grateful for this year? Hearing them speaking out everything good that God has done to us throughout the year makes my heart sing. The presence of God is so strong as we count our blessings, naming the many tokens we have for his affection for us. As we sit there around the table we are all face down at the feet of Jesus, worshipping.

Then we unwrap the ornament. We remember and we pray. We praise God for his love and faithfulness. For coming close when we cried for mercy. For lavishing gifts upon us that we never even asked for. For making us whole.

As we hang the ornament on the tree we go through all the ornaments from past years, taking turns as we tell our family’s love story, of this loving Father who dwells with us. We give him the gift that no-one else can give, our heartfelt thanks, as he heals our souls.

This Christmas we once again return to the stable, bringing the gift that will make him feel known and loved. We hurry through the cold, dark night to see the Morning Star and offer him our gratitude for his goodness, for his mercy, and for the many miracles he has performed in our life throughout the year.

You are welcome to join us.