I’m not one of those New Age Hippie Dippy people who sees a miracle at every turn. But I follow Jesus and that has conditioned me to recognize divinity in the mundane. I’ve been feeling a little road weary lately. And it seems like in my weariness the universe is conspiring to be kind to me.
Instead of bringing The Hammer when I’ve been short tempered and downright awful, God has responded to my hyper extended meltdown with unabashed tenderness. And I’m grateful.
Most of the time I think human beings are pretty awful, myself totally included. But in the past week and a half, people have been inhumanly kind to me. And I can only attribute these out of the blue random kindnesses to God.
So my birthday was last week. And I intentionally planned nothing. I who typically love birthdays didn’t even want to celebrate the damn thing. But despite my bornday angst, my friends and family rallied to make me feel loved and cared for. Without my asking them to. Without even knowing that I needed that.
I love presents. Like I love them. What I love most is presents that I actually want. I love when people who get me give me incredibly thoughtful gifts. Like my BFF Kim. She sent me a Doctor Who bookmark and cookbook (and also a post card from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter). My friend Lori bought me dinner and a birthday margarita as well as sunflowers (which I LOVE) and a gift card to my fav bookstore. Because, you know, books are my favorite. And my Sarah friend got me a book of Doctor Who short stories. I could go on and on and on.
The thing about gifts is that I never expect them. I always want them, but never expect people to actually give them to me. And am frequently surprised at the people who do.
Last night after I got home from a most trying Monday at work (and an infuriating trip to the Walmart. . .hell, all trips to Walmart are infuriating IMO), there was a package waiting for me. It was a ghetto-taped Sponge Bob box of some sort from a rando person that I didn’t know. I was mildly concerned that it might be a bomb, and said a quick prayer and an apology to my housemate for potentially blowing up her house. But I opened it anyway. Because I love a good mystery.
In the box was a salvation of sorts.
It was a wine glass (a rather large one at that). Rori’s Wine Glass was printed on the side in a Lucinda Handwriting-esque font. There was a purple bow tied to the stem, and the glass was decorated with purple and pink polka dots (sidebar: I LOVE purple and pink. I LOOOVE Wine. And I LOOOOOOVE polka dots). It was beautiful.
I scoured the box for a note, for any hint of the glass’s origins, but found none. So I took to the social network to find out the benefactor of this wonderful gift. Because it had to be someone who knows me. I mean, it was perfect.
I washed my glass (that I secretly feared was coated with anthrax) and poured myself a generous serving of wine. And as I sat on my couch drinking my wine (actually my housemate’s wine. . .whatever, she was never gonna finish that bottle before it went bad), and watching The Fault in our Stars for the 20th time, I marveled at how little things like this have been happening to me lately.
Maybe it’s just because it’s my birthday. Maybe that’s why people are being so nice to me. But I dunno. My friends- and this is certainly not a knock against them- are not usually so extravagantly nice to me on my birthday. And that’s fine. I mean, I feel like my people went above and beyond the call of duty this year. And believe you me, I haven’t been any kinder to any of them. In fact as I sat there watching Gus and Hazel fall in love, I felt how completely undeserving I am of all of this love folks have lavished on me.
In my college church we were fond of singing this song- man, we sang the crap out of that song- that begins with these words:
Your love is extravagant
Your friendship intimate
And ok, so the song is talking about the love of God or whatever. But the love my friends and family have been showing me lately has had that same humbling, overwhelming weight to it. I felt bowed underneath it. I couldn’t stand. I was just so grateful.
I’ve often heard it said that all truth is God’s truth. And I believe that. But I think the same can be said for love. All love is God’s love. God is love.
After watching some more movie, finishing my big ass glass of wine and writing out some thank you cards (which I now realize was a poor choice considering the big ass glass of wine. . .my handwriting was atrocious), I took my exhausted yet cheered butt to bed. Later that night I got a text from a friend that I rarely ever talk to. A friend that I used to be very close to but who I’ve drifted apart from in recent years. A friend who is notorious for giving random (but not good random) birthday gifts. She said, “Hey, see u got my present!!!! The seller I guess didn’t put who it was from in the package!”
Mystery solved.
The gift was all the sweeter for both NOT knowing who it was from, and then discovering that it had come from a most unexpected source. And I think that’s how it is with love sometimes. It never comes in the way you expect it, but it’s always in the way that you need it.
theRorishow 