That’s a Wrap
Gift
/ɡift/
noun
Definition of gift:
1: a thing given willingly to someone without payment; a present.
Through the years, little Billy developed an impressive knack for making wrong choices. Wrong friends at school, wrong answers on tests, wrong side of the bed in the morning. In the tragic case of little Billy, Forrest Gump was only half right—he knew what he was going to get, and every time it was pink nougat.
Little Billy would be well into his late 40s before he would ever truly grasp the concept and ease of a “no-brainer.” But for now, every decision little Billy made was very much a “brainer.” And tonight was no exception. Unfortunately, little Billy’s talent for making wrong choices this particular Christmas Eve left him standing last in line so far from Santa not even Ralphie could empathize.
As the line shrunk, so did little Billy’s hopes of getting something special for Christmas. With every step toward Santa, little Billy’s head lowered until he finally made it to the Big Man.
“Ho, ho…oh…” Santa scooted a little forward on his seat. “Why so sad, little boy?”
Little Billy looked at his boots. “I’m last. I wouldn’t stop gaming and now there isn’t enough time for you to get my present finished before tomorrow. It’s impossible.”
“But you’re last!”
“Yeah. I know. Don’t rub it in.”
“Well, don’t you know that the last child to tell Santa what he or she wants for Christmas gets an extra special present?”
“They do?”
“Yes, indeed. Indeed, they do. Because you’re last, you can choose one of these special wishes: you can have unlimited toys, a never-ending supply of candy, or infinite wisdom.”
Little Billy thought for a moment. “Wisdom. I’ll definitely take the wisdom.”
“I thought you might. Very good. Wisdom is yours.” Santa stood. “Now, Santa has a big night ahead of him, so he needs to get going. Have a very Merry Christmas, Billy.”
“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too, Santa.”
Santa wasn’t yet out of sight before little Billy lowered his head and said to himself, “I should’ve taken the toys.”
When I was in junior high, I joined a Christmas giftwrapping fundraiser at my school. And just to be clear, we aren’t talking about some “easy” fundraisers like car washes or raffles here (even a trained monkey could squeeze out a few dollars from one of those). We’re talking giftwrapping—a combination one-part geometry, one-part art, two-parts Emily Post.
As soon as I stepped behind the giftwrapping booth at the mall, I knew I bit off more gingerbread than I could chew. And that being the case, I was happy to simply man the scissors and tape dispenser (the giftwrapping equivalent of a surgical technologist). I didn’t know how to wrap, but I knew how to assist. And it wasn’t long before I hit my stride.
“Tape.”
“Tape.”
“Scissors.”
“Scissors.”
“A little space?”
“Giving you space.”
My wrapping partner and I were like McCartney and Lennon. Each perfectly wrapped gift was another chart-topper. But unfortunately, like McCartney and Lennon, my partner left. An Orange Julius was our Yoko Ono.
I turned for a quick restock of tape and just like that, my partner was gone. All that remained was a man holding a My Little Pony in need of immediate attention.
“Can you help me?” the man asked.
I starred at the creature.
“Please! For my daughter. There isn’t much time.”
I snapped out of it. “Yes, of course. Put her down there on the table.”
I quickly grabbed the nearest roll of wrapping paper and spread a sheet roughly the size the of the purple equine.
“You’ve done this before, right?” The man asked.
“Sir…”
“Roger. Name’s Roger.”
“Roger,”—I positioned the pony squarely on the table—“this isn’t my first rodeo.” I began the procedure.
Between my knowledge of ER, MacGyver, and Bing Crosby’s Merry Christmas album, I felt my confident response was within reason. Everything I had observed over the past forty minutes was about to be put to the test. And despite operating alone, I was ready.
My scissors glid through the decorative wrap like a Yoshihiro knife through a tender roast beast. I measured, cut, and taped with all the grace and mastery of Martha Stewart. I couldn’t help but smile. The pony smiled sappily back at me. About halfway through, I slipped into a trancelike state that can only be described as Hallmarkian. Ambient sound faded. My vision focused. My senses aligned like stripes on a candy cane—all focused on one thing, and one thing only: Christmas cheer. At one point, sugar plumbs danced in my head, which as anyone will tell you is a rarity inside the conscious mind. The spirit of Christmas had taken control. For a brief moment, I was one with the Yuletide.
When I opened my eyes, the final triangle fold was made and secured. I wiped a single bead of sweat from my forehead. The man and I looked down at the table. Our eyes then met.
“I did everything I could for her. I’m so sorry. If you had gotten her here just a little bit sooner…”
“—Yeah, I’ll just wrap it again at home.”
Fortunately for him, when he did the rewrapping, he’d be able to use the scissors I taped up inside of the package.
It’s been said don’t judge a book by its cover. And if that book happens to be a gift, research shows that the same metaphor can be applied to its wrapping. In an article published by the Journal of Consumer Psychology, researchers Rixom, Mas, and Rixom studied the effects of giftwrapping on how recipients felt about the gift. The researchers found that a poorly-wrapped gift from a loved one is liked significantly more than a gift wrapped neatly (joke’s on Roger). Neatness, it appears, is overrated. But this is nothing new.
Seventeenth century author and theologian François Fénelon once said, “Exactness and neatness in moderation is a virtue, but carried to extremes narrows the mind.” While I’d imagine Fénelon expressed this sentiment after reading an illuminating portion of scripture, I like to think he mumbled it to himself while trying to wrap a tricycle on Christmas Eve. But whether inspired by The Book of Philippians or the peak of frustration, Fénelon has a point. While exactness and neatness certainly have their place (Marie Kondō would agree), taken too far, we run the risk of missing the forest for the trees—or the gift for the wrapping.
Some of life’s greatest gifts come oddly wrapped. Loving discipline (Hebrews 12:10-11), personal weakness (2 Corinthians 12: 9-10), and “unanswered” prayers (Isaiah 55:8-9) to name a few. But this should come as no surprise. After all, the greatest gift given to humanity, too, arrived unusually wrapped over two thousand years ago (sadly, many missed the gift for the wrapping that day too). And this gift was not only from a loved one, but from love Himself.
So, when it comes to gifts this year, whether from heaven above or from underneath the tree, if it looks like a junior high boy wrapped it, you’ll most likely be in for a treat.
Luke 2:11-12
“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger” (NIV).