December 15, 2014

Journeys With Jesus

It had that feeling of Christmas—the woodsy smell of pine, carols on the stereo, the floor strewn with brightly colored paper, excited children, and, most important, the laughter and love that come from family.

My nephews, Jonathan and Stephen, ran in circles around the room, grabbing packages from under the tree and distributing them with joy. We responded with the appropriate oohs and aahs as we smiled at the Christmas tree Jonathan had colored himself or the star Stephen had sprinkled with glitter. Such were the presents of children—cute and colorful, but oh, so heartfelt.

Suddenly I discovered Stephen was back at the tree. Weren’t all the boys’ presents distributed? Yet he was picking up another package. I turned questioning eyes to my sister. This one wasn’t wrapped like the others. It looked a bit clumsy, as though small hands had struggled to fold the pretty paper the way Mommy always did. Stephen’s beaming face came across the room, directly to my seat on the piano bench.

“Auntie Jill, this present is for you!” He shyly held up the present and smiled into my face.25 1JOY OF GIVING: Jill Morikone hugs her nephew Stephen while holding his gift to her of two yellow Post-it notes. " class="img-right" style="float: right;">

“Oh, Stephen! Another present? For me?” I took the package from him. “Did you make this one, too?”

He shook his head no. “Open it! It’s from me!”

I pulled off the many strips of tape. It had quite a bit of paper, but I couldn’t seem to find the present inside. Puzzled, I opened further, and there it lay—two yellow Post-it note stickers, one on top of the other. In that moment my mind traveled to the stories my sister had told me about Stephen and his love of gifts and wrapping paper. There was the time he had wrapped up his favorite pencil to give to his dad when he got home from work, or the toys he took from his own collection to give to a friend at his birthday party. How could a 5-year-old heart be so unselfish?

I hesitated just a moment, and uncertainty began to show on Stephen’s face. “It’s beautiful, Stephen! I love it! How did you know I always need paper to write stuff on?” I reached out and gave him a hug to keep from crying, but he soon wriggled free. Reaching the tree, he pulled out another of his surprise packages. Another family member got two square pieces of yellow paper. Then another! Finally he pulled out a present for my sister-in-law, Janelle.

By this time we were all sitting expectantly, waiting for the two square pieces of yellow paper to show up. Janelle pulled off the tape and began to peer inside. Wait a minute! There was nothing in this package! She kept looking, but it was plain there was no present in his package. Stephen stood still, disappointment and embarrassment on his face. “It’s OK, Stephen,” she said. “I love the wrapping paper. Thank you for thinking of me!”

He turned and ran to his mom. Quickly he took the empty wrapping paper and disappeared into the kitchen. Again she opened her package, and—surprise! Two square yellow slips of paper lay inside. Stephen grinned.

Soon we turned our attention to the adults’ gifts, but my mind remained on Stephen. Of what value were his gifts? After all, they looked like simple scraps of paper. In reality, though, infinitely more lay behind. For Stephen had given something he valued, something he treasured—something of himself. It didn’t matter whether the package looked professionally wrapped; neither did it matter whether anything was in it! All that mattered was that Stephen loved us. That he cared enough to give. That he gave himself.

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