Consider the extraordinary

So many gifts unopened

I heard a radio pastor tell a poignant story about gifts. It went something like this: After dying, a man arrived in a room in the presence of God. The room was filled with beautifully wrapped gifts in every size, shape, and color; the number of gifts was almost overwhelming.

Deeply moved by God’s generosity, the man said graciously, “Thank you so much for all of these gifts. I had no idea I would be receiving gifts—and so many!”

God smiled kindly and touched the man lightly on the shoulder as he motioned that the two would be walking toward an open door.

“No, my son, those are the gifts I gave you while you lived but that you never opened.” And out they went to parts unspecified.

I am on a mission in my life to notice the extraordinary in everyday life because I want to open and appreciate as many gifts as I can. This is not out of greed, but rather, I don’t want the giver of the gifts to go unnoticed and unappreciated.

Many years ago, I had an extraordinary experience—I’m sorry to say—involving an overflowing toilet. I wrote about that experience and the chain reaction of epiphanies it sparked in my original blog posts. In fact, many of those posts were devoted to that experience in some way, even when it wasn’t explicitly mentioned.

That overflowing toilet was instrumental in revealing my rejection of God’s gifts, though I never intentionally rejected even one. Through ignorance and an embarrassing bout of self-pity, I inadvertently rejected those gifts—or at a minimum, failed to recognize and open them.

At the conclusion of my extraordinary round of epiphanies, I came to think of my life as The River Me. Getting into the flow of The River Me led me to my beloved farm and the very best part of my life (which is still unfolding at this very moment).

My journey along that river is full of blessings but also hardship—sometimes, even often, heartbreak. Yet I always come through, and the waters flow beautifully again, with scenery that takes my breath away.

Once, I was setting up to work on a painting in a public park when I was approached by a pretty rough-looking man.

Though I attempted to discourage him from hanging around by continuing with my setup and giving short answers to his questions, he lingered in my space. He seemed somewhat menacing. It was early in the morning, and there weren’t many people in the park at that time. Feeling alert to potential danger, I stayed composed but silently prayed for more people to arrive and for the stranger to lose interest in me. People did arrive, and he eventually left. As I began painting, I allowed that chance, unpleasant encounter to inspire something positive—an epiphany. My epiphany was this: without darkness, the light does not shine. In a painting, if you neglect dark areas and shadows, the painting will be flat and somewhat lifeless, no matter how much beautiful light you give it.

So it is with life. Without some dark bits—without struggles, losses, heartaches, and heartbreaks—life would be somewhat flat. It is the darker, unhappier bits that allow the best parts to shine brightly and bring reason for relief, celebration, creativity, and joy. Some of us have more than our fair share of the dark bits, I know that is true. But I do believe that even in the most tragic and painful circumstances, it can be possible to see beyond, around, or behind that darkness for the better times, moments, and things we can be grateful for.

I have lived on this farm by the river now for nearly twenty years—blows my mind to tell you the truth. The adventures have been many, and some have been extraordinary, while others have been very frustrating. But through these years, The River Me keeps rolling along as I learn over and over again to face forward and go with the flow.

Until next time, this is …  ~firefly, out.