christmas is the new thanksgiving...

when your only thought is to stop the next breath in your throat before it slips out and gives birth to time, it's hard to remember that that breath is a miracle; that that time is a gift from God.
and sometimes, it's because the gifts from God don't look anything like what we wanted, nothing like the things for which we asked.

because we're 6, and all we keep asking for is a chainsaw. that would be the coolest thing in our tiny little world, it would be awesome, impressive, cool. we'd be the envy of all our other crazy rugrat friends, who are all busy asking for rocket launchers and hand grenades and other things that are impossible. but not us... we're smart... scale it back a little, don't get too crazy... it's just a chainsaw, after all.
and we have no idea, no concept of how dangerous something like that would be in our hands, how reckless anyone in the world would have to be to give us what we think we want.

so christmas rolls around, and we open the box, and (surprise!) it's... it's...
it's...

a sweater. and some socks.

and here's the next, and often overlooked in this typical analogy, truth about our nature as we relate to the things God tries to give us.

instead of changing our mind, realizing that this is actually much better for us, and accepting the gift with good grace, what happens is this: our desire for the thing we wanted in the first place quadruples. suddenly we go from kinda wanting a chainsaw to imagining ourselves holding it right then, sawing up that stupid sweater and those equally stupid socks, turning them into a flurry of stuffing as we grin maniacally and everyone else backs away in awe and fear. the good gift has actually enhanced our desire for the bad. it's been multiplied by the "injustice" of disappointment, by the shock of realizing that we're not in control, by the pain, unrealistic though it might be, of our parents simply "not loving us enough" to give us what we want.

but you know what the real tragedy is?
we'll wake up tomorrow like every other morning. we'll put on the new sweater and the new socks, because it's december, and it's cold out there. and we'll be warm and comfortable, and we won't even question it. these are just things that were always ours, and there is not even a hint of gratitude for this outfit that, until yesterday, didn't even exist in our world. the gift is swallowed whole by expectation, and it's only when that expectation isn't met that we even notice a change.

anyway, the point i'm trying to make is this. i hate this damned sweater. it itches, i sneeze all the time when i wear it, the colors are so absurd that i've been beaten up twice already for wearing it. sure, i'm warm. and i'd probably die without it's physical comfort. but all in all, i wish, some days, that God would be a little more fashionable and a little more willing to meet earth halfway, no matter what damage it might do.

i'd lose a toe to frostbite any day for the privelege of wearing something that will make me, just once, fit in.

so, what are you thankful for this year?

chainsaws and pillowstuffing?