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The boxes made everyone uncomfortable. No one dared suggest they should open them, or dispose of them. Rather, they
busied themselves collecting the trash, organizing the gifts, texting friends and continuing the celebration in other
parts of the house. In the kitchen the hostess picked up a pen and pad.
Note to Self:
Find out who brought those eyesores
and make sure they don’t do it again.
You, however, could not get those boxes out of your mind. Something about their homeliness made you feel homely, too. Or, worse
than homely: ugly. They reminded you of some pretty awful stuff you had entertained in your head and some terribly unkind things you had spoken and
foolish things you had done. In fact, now that you thought about it, you felt as
though opening one of those boxes might expose all that trash and more for the
world to see.
To make it worse, just about the time you did forget about them, there would be the whisper of a breeze near a window
or when you stepped outside to glimpse the seasonal landscape. It seemed to
beckon you back to the living room… to the boxes.
Finally, you yielded. When you stepped into the living room you were surprised to find two girls and a boy staring at the packages. You would have preferred to have been alone, but now there you were.
In the silence, no one dared do anything until one of the girls announced, “this is “stupid,” and left. The remaining girl took that moment to square her shoulders, mutter “no it isn’t” and seize a box. That gave you and the boy the courage to do the same, but with considerably less boldness. The way she tore into the wrapping surprised you. You wished you had her courage. Instead, you applied more care to the process.
In the silence, no one dared do anything until one of the girls announced, “this is “stupid,” and left. The remaining girl took that moment to square her shoulders, mutter “no it isn’t” and seize a box. That gave you and the boy the courage to do the same, but with considerably less boldness. The way she tore into the wrapping surprised you. You wished you had her courage. Instead, you applied more care to the process.
When the girl's eyebrows popped up, the boy asked, “What’s in it?”
“Just some straw, and a couple nails and a piece
of paper with a word on it.”
“What word?” you asked.
“Listen.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. What’s in yours.”
You tore away the last of the wrapping and lifted the lid.
“Same thing, but my word is Come.”
“Mine says Open,”
the boy volunteered.
Before you could think what it might mean,
you were startled by a gentle rap on the front door.
Wide-eyed, you exchanged glances. The girl
stood. You and the boy followed her to the door. The gentle knock greeted your arrival. The boy grasped the knob, hesitated and then pulled the
door open – very slowly.
There, with a most disarming smile, stood a man
who looked no different than any other man. Yet, there was something about him
which made you think it would be wonderful if he could be your
best friend; and then it made you scold yourself for being so foolish as to
imagine he would want to be.
“My Father is planning a welcome home celebration for
you," he announced.
Oh! You so much wanted to accept the invitation. But...
You looked nervously back into the house. The man anticipated your question.
You looked nervously back into the house. The man anticipated your question.
“They won’t know you’re gone. Your body will be here, but your heart will be with me. Some will think
you seemed a little preoccupied, but they won’t know why until later,
when you can explain it to them.”
You shook your head. “I don’t understand."
“You don’t have to. Just know this, from now on
you will live in two worlds, mine and the world which will one day be mine
again. And as for the things you thought you would find in the box. You already found those in your heart’s memory. I have paid for all those things. You are forgiven.”
Together you followed him down the sidewalk.
“What about the other boxes?” the girl wanted to
know.
“Most will ignore them,” he replied. “Others
will take one but they won’t open it. They’ll give it some meaning of their own
and treat it like a charm. Some will even set it on a shelf once a year and put
lights around it and talk about how special it makes them feel."
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