Unlikely Gifts

This is a story about a dog and glitter and light in the darkness and living light in a world that can easily weigh you down. 

     It began when Emma, our mastiff, awakened me from a peaceful sleep in the wee hours of the morning. She’s getting older and can’t always wait until daylight to relieve herself. It was a cold morning and I wanted to stay in my warm bed. In fact, I may have prayed that I could. In my groggy state, I convinced myself it was a false alarm and snuggled deeper under the covers. But Emma’s whining continued to interrupt my dreams, and I knew if I wanted any more sleep at all, I would have to get up and attend to her need. 

     In an attempt to motivate myself, I tried to recall the many things I was thankful for in the situation. There was my dog, the ability to care for her and the fact that I would soon be back in my comfy bed. But still, it was with a bit of irritation that I ventured out into the wintry darkness. 

     Once outside, I looked up. The beauty of stars would help make up for being dragged from my slumber. But the sky was dark and that somehow made the night seem colder. I shivered. Willing Emma to hurry up, I switched on my flashlight and pointed it toward her. And then I understood. I was not standing in my backyard because of my dog. I was there because my creator did not want me to miss his handiwork. In the beam of the flashlight, the frosty ground sparkled as if glitter had been sprinkled down from heaven. Truly, it was as dazzling as a sky full of stars. And I almost missed it. How many times had I missed it? And what other gifts had I missed that were literally or figuratively right under my feet? 

     I hadn’t expected a gift in the darkness. I had forced myself to crawl out of bed in the middle of the night out of a sense of responsibility, not expectancy. 

     When life seems to be bearing down on me, I often tell myself to simply put my nose to the grindstone and soldier through. I remind myself there will be light at the end of the tunnel (and perhaps a warm bed.) But the truth is, those familiar sayings do not line up with God’s Word. It turns out the light is not just at the end of the tunnel, it’s with us right there in the darkness. James 1:3 does talk about the importance of perseverance, but the sentence begins by encouraging us to count it all joy. The Message puts it this way, “Consider it a sheer gift…when tests and challenges come at you from all sides.” James 1:2

    This verse doesn’t appear to be advising us to soldier through. The words seem more like an invitation to dance.

      But dancing is tough with my nose to the grindstone. I mostly ignore that fact because the approach does tend to get the job done. The trouble is, it weighs me down. Instead of spinning and twirling, I spend my energy piling on feelings of frustration, resentment and discontent.

     How different would life be if I truly lived expecting a gift? I would have to let go of all those heavy burdens. Otherwise, how could my hands and heart be free to receive? 

     James 1:17 says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.”

     I don’t always recognize these gifts because they generally do not come tied up in a pretty bow. They’re more likely to be packaged in annoyances such as being awakened by an aging pet who needs to go out on a cold, dark night. 

     But, then again, I have a feeling the dog, the darkness and even the frigid temperature were more than just the wrappings. They were, somehow, part of the gift. If only I could live in the light of this truth— that all of life is a gift, I’m sure I would spend way more time in awe and a lot less time in frustration. I would see more glitter. And I would dance in it.