The Gift I Didn't Want

 

"Hey, Rachel, there are a couple packages in your mailbox.  Do you want us to bring them over?"

 

"Sure, that would be great!"

 

When they showed up a little later at the language center, there was only one package.  "The other one wasn't for you.  It was for the pastor [of my church]," he told me.

 

"Why did they put it in my box if it wasn't for me?"  I wondered aloud, slightly annoyed.  It's not the first time that's happened, and it's always disappointing to think you have a package when it's actually for someone else.

 

I opened the package from Michelle immediately, but I didn't think much more about the other one until I went to the Mission myself a few days later.  Oh, yeah, that's right.  The package.  For the pastor.  I don't know why I have to be the courier.

 

I reached up to get it out of my mailbox, huffing and grumbling a little to myself.  It's not a little box, so I'll probably have to take a taxi back instead of the bus.  And suppose the pastor isn't at the church today?  I'll have to lug the clumsy thing home with me and then lug it all the way back tomorrow.

 

I looked at the address label, still annoyed.  Why did he have a package sent here and not to his house?  Wait...this isn't even the Mission's address.  How did it get here?!  And the end is open.  I hope nothing has been damaged...

 

At this point, I turned the open end toward me, only to realize that what was listed on the packing invoice was most certainly not what was in the box.  It was...calendars.  A whole stack of lovely calendars.  For me.  Someone had been cleaning out their office and, knowing my love for calendars, given me their old ones - in a old, half-smashed box addressed to my pastor.

 

And here I was, huffing and puffing about having to take the package to someone else, when it was actually for me.  A gift.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes people get the idea - sometimes I get the idea - that being a missionary is like taking a package, a gift of good news, to someone else.

 

I huff and puff sometimes, because frankly, this experience is not always fun.  Why do I have to be the courier?

 

I almost picture God saying, "But won't you just look inside the box?"

 

Look inside and you'll realize it's actually a gift for you...

 

Look inside and you'll find that sometimes the loveliest things come in the most unlikely packages...

 

Look. inside.

 

* * *

 

The stack of calendars is sitting in my desk drawer.  All those pages of mountains and flowers and bridges are waiting to be made into envelopes.  (Nine calendars, twelve pages each - that's over 100!)  Some of them will be stamped and mailed to friends back home.  Some of them will be tied with ribbon and left in other mailboxes.

 

It's not so different from grace, now, is it?

 

Grace isn't a package I'm supposed to deliver to someone else, have them sign for or leave on their doorstep.

 

It's a gift from God to me.

 

So I can take the gift.  Open it.  Enjoy it.  Then (and only then) from that abundance of loveliness...give to others.