To give does not always prepare you in a well manner in heart, mind, body, or spirit.
Life can catch up with you like a cold vapor weaving through your sweater when stepping outside without a coat.
That stillness of coldness that all of a sudden envelopes your ill-prepared body makes you freeze up, focusing only on what should help to comfort you.
You just weren’t thinking or you ignored the mothering whispers in your ear to be ahead of yourself for you and others.
Sometimes, we take risks in thinking that although you see rain, we think nothing of a little sprinkle.
Before you know it, someone outside with an umbrella under the very same blanket of raindrops pouring down sees you rushing to seek dry refuge.
We aren’t always prepared for what’s to come. And, even when we are given some forewarn, still, we interestingly enough, take chances to push through it unscathed.
Thankfully, who we are, what we possess, are what we carry or have with us. To give of ourselves does not take much.
We are each more than enough.
A cheerful giver is only one thought away from one who finds a moment of reason to hold back.
Time, treasure, and talent.
Whatever there is of you to give, no matter how little of time you may perceive to have; no matter how little of treasure you may think to have; no matter how little of talent you may believe to have- that little could be the very necessity that someone awaits to receive.
The fire truck could be heard from up the hill. We were in our room watching a movie with our youngest boys. I thought no urgency coming from it as the siren sounds were subtle and incremental, not those highly alarming ones which speak that voluminous message to “get out the way!”
As the ongoing sounds came closer to our area, however, my husband took note that it was moving toward us and then, eventually, nearer to the front of our home.
“It’s Santa, guys,” my husband uttered to our boys.
He was right.
It was the holiday food drive with Santa and Mrs. Claus in a sleigh ride along with several other helpers following behind in their own lit up vehicles.
This has been a tradition our city has beautifully dedicated themselves to put together for several years now and still, I get caught off-guard every year to be able to preparedly take part in such lively event.
The brightly, twinkling collection of amazing help to collect food for those in need in our communities do this in the evenings prior to Christmas and not following social media, I counted on my neighbor to inform me in advance what evening they were coming around to our neighborhood.
With her own kids bigger and older now, I hadn’t counted on myself to keep track.
Nonetheless, this was important to contribute to for the leadership of giving for our children.
Such genuinely driven, whole-hearted traditions should not be discouraged.
While our youngest two went into the pantry to each grab a food donation and catch up with the food donation vehicle amongst the line, funny thing is, all I could think about was how our home had not put out all our outdoor decorations yet.
For a moment, I lost touch of the special gathering before us.
I had been so on point in putting outdoor decorations out far in advance since Halloween for the kids. December arrived following the removal of October festivities to Thanksgiving preparations.
With lights not up and lit yet, I felt our home practically bare under the eyes of passersby.
Almost immediately, I felt myself snap out of my insecurities to get back into the moment.
There were plenty of abundant joy and peace happening before us and no one cared to think about the readiness of our home to welcome the festivities.
Like us, there were those who had come out to join in on watching all the brightly lit-up vehicles driving past our homes.
We missed the direct passing right in front of our home, but sending our boys to the end cap of our neighborhood’s circular roundabout, we could enjoy watching all those who joined them to embrace the finale of Santa and Mrs. Claus’ visit along with the beautifully beaming and sounding fire truck with all the others trailing behind before they were off to other surrounding neighborhoods.
While our boys held up the cans and approached the pick-up van to hand them off to volunteer helpers, I was again, given the lesson of such togetherness.
All those who put work in to plan out every evening route for Santa and Mrs. Claus to visit in their sleigh with all others to follow, led by firefighters and a fire truck undoubtedly took precious time.
All those who determined which lights would go where within each area of vehicles, from a simple car to a massive fire truck, to add, the magical sleigh- such creativity undoubtedly took a great amount of team talent.
All those, not just our children, who gathered what they could to hand off to the passersby collecting food donations were given off to share their treasures.
There is this feeling inside that is so priceless in such moment of observance.
The grown adult in me can be felt jumping up and down like a child inside. The heart, the mind, the body, and the spirit dance together under such euphoric energy.
I am at awe at the sight of all the lights beaming while people can be seen coming out of their homes to join in on the togetherness, exchanging waves of joyful acknowledgment.
Papa would always tell me, “God is love. Love is God.”
At such moments where I stand before those who are coming together to share their time, talent, and treasure, I am receiving full instruction and understanding of what Papa truly meant for me to grasp.
To be part of such priceless splendor is inexplicable.
I was that child that Santa missed many years because there were no chimneys to slide down from or a community perhaps not safe enough for the sleigh to take landing upon its streets.
Papa did the best he could to remind us what Christmas was about and receiving gifts was clearly not one of them.
I was told he hadn’t always been like that. In fact, memories of my cousins retold of stories where they came to our home to join in on the giving and festivities.
The youngest of five living, I am to recall mostly jokes being told in our togetherness.
Papa would remind us of the meaning of Christmas, but our unspoken silence had most likely to do with wonders of whether or not Papa just had nothing to give us.
It had been my own silent wonder.
Going to school, hearing of everyone’s else’s gifts were part of my training to take in other people’s joy of receiving.
I think now, where I have arrived, where I find myself to be, is genuine, utter joy, having made up for more than enough of those years I found nothing under a tree.
Yes. It hurt to hear the exchanges of other students speaking of what they had received from Santa.
That hurt was given yearly until I finally realized it was what I had to own.
That hurt has since been redecorated with triumphant joy.
How would I have known such difference?
God is love. Love is God.
