Giving and Receiving

I’m a gift-giver. That doesn’t mean I’m special or particularly noble. It’s just who I am and what I do. If you’ve read Gary Chapman’s, The Five Love Languages, you know that gift-giving is one of the five and it’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember. Yes, sometimes I’ve gone too far or have used it for wrong reasons, but mostly it’s how I respond when my heart needs to sing.

Recently, I attended a wedding of a couple I adore. The service was held in a magnificent setting and I knew, even before the service began, that I wanted to try and paint the scene. When I returned home and went to my studio, I began right away. I didn’t want to forget how it looked or how it made me feel. When the painting was finished, my wife and I had it framed and gave it to the couple.

A voice within wanted to point out it was no masterpiece, but I didn’t listen and sent it anyway. I’m glad I did because the couple adored it and their reaction made such an impression on me that I needed to make it a brushstroke.

The connection I felt to the couple when they responded to the painting felt nothing short of divine. Someone gave a gift and it was received with profound gratitude. I’m not sure there’s a better reason to be alive. To offer a piece of ourselves, in whatever way we may, and have that be received with joy is what I think we’re here for. Whether as the giver or the receiver, the encounter is sacred. It’s true between one another, and it’s true with God.

And yet, as givers  . . .

We often listen to the voices that say what we have to offer is not good enough, we let the fear of rejection win the day, we measure a relationship to decide if it warrants such generosity, or we let our fear of not having enough cause our fists to clench around whatever we have to give.

As recipients . . .

We take others’ generosity for granted, we expect gifts, we open a gift but never really receive it because we’re too busy moving through life at warp speed, or we let our hopes and/or expectations measure what’s given.

My recent experience with this young couple has reminded me that giving something of our selves is what life is all about, and that receiving whatever is given is a way to complete the sacred dance that beckons.

The choice is ours.

Lifting our Sails

Two friends stood beside each other looking out at the open sea. It was a bright, clear day and the wind was blowing gently from the north. One of them looked over and realized the other had disappeared. It was only moments later that he looked at the dock below and saw his friend lifting the sail and heading out toward the sea.

This simple tale reminded me of the sacred dance waiting for each of us. The world and our lives lie clear and bright before us and it’s sometimes tempting to stand and gaze, imagining what could be. But the wind and the sea are waiting. They were given to us not only to admire and appreciate but to join.

The wind invites us to lift our sails, and, as they fill, our lives move in mysterious ways. Slowly we head into the seas and discover things we can’t see from the shore. Lifting one’s sails and heading out into the sea (in whatever way you conceive that) is harder than remaining on the shore, but it is only when we do our part that we experience what it means to “dance” with God.

Dropping Books

How can it already be August?

It feels as if I was just welcoming Summer. Now Labor Day is approaching, and I’m dizzy looking back over the past few months. There are weddings, a funeral, this trip and that weekend. No wonder I feel exhausted.

It didn’t help that this morning’s reading spoke about rest, about creating greater margins in our lives by doing less. It left me feeling convicted because I’ve “packed my suitcase full,” as my wife likes to say, with good and important things. But right now, I feel like I can’t keep this up. Something has to give. I’m not my best self when I’ve run out of gas.

I took a moment and wrote down everything I spend time on. I thought I had a good sense of what would be on the list, but it ended up being a longer list than I expected. Knowing that I needed to find something or somethings to cut, I could see the real struggle that faces all of us who seek to live grounded, intentional lives: what goes?

It made me remember a moment in high school when I was walking toward the library with my arms full of books. A friend met me on the path and invited me to a game of wiffle ball. “I can’t,” I said lifting the books as evidence, to which he reached over and knocked them out of my hands. “Now you can,” he said with a grin.

We all carry a large stack of books. All of them are important, or at least we think they are, but the truth is we can’t possibly “read” them all, or at least we can’t read them well. In these dog days of summer, maybe it’s time to consider lightening our loads. What really matters? What’s filling our calendars that we can cross out? What “books” can we drop?

Oh, I know, we are very important and the world (or that particular social event) can’t possibly survive without us, but I think God is waiting on the path to knock all the books out of our hands, or at least a lot of them, so that we can breathe again, become who He created us to be again, and, who knows, maybe even join in on a game of wiffle ball.