i spent my afternoon standing at the kitchen island in the home where i grew up, stamping envelopes and adding address labels to what seemed to be a never-ending pile of cards.
and it got me to thinking about Christmas and letters and packages tied with paper and string.
it's strange for me to realize that the beautifully wrapped gifts, which are carefully assembled by those we love, will soon be transformed into empty boxes and crumpled piles of wrapping paper.
is it strange that i find God in this?
you don't have a soul. you are a soul. you have a body.
the packages are beautiful as they sit below the tree, their colours flickering in the lights like a strange sort of decoration. and i can't help but feel the same as my eyes dance in childlike wonder and i realize that those packages are just like me.
i'm more than brown paper and string.
because you don't just hold the package in your lap and gaze at the paper. it's an insult to the giver.
so why would i stand in the mirror and gaze at my flaws as though they are worth something?
it's an insult to the Giver.
but oh, so much more.
because one day -- one new morning, fresh like Christmas to a child, i will stand shining in glory at the side of the One who breathed me.
because i am more.
i am a soul.