When I was growing up I always knew Christmas was coming when Mom would leave us at home with Dad and she would go Christmas present shopping. When we heard the garage door announce her return, we were warned to close our eyes while she carried our, just out of reach, treasures inside. I would close my eyes but my heart would beat faster just imagining what kind of things she had gotten for me.
Did she get me the one thing that I can’t live without?
Did she get me the thing I scarcely hoped to dream for?
Or would I be disappointed by my gifts?
She would then proceed into her room and close the door. We knew that just behind her closed door there were treasures that were meant for us, but it wasn’t yet time for them to be ours. But it didn’t mean I didn’t dream. It didn’t mean my brother and sister and I didn’t speculate about what we would be getting. We all knew that she was putting the bags into her closet and covering them with blankets until she had time to wrap them. It was like some horrible form of torture. The treasure was so close, yet we couldn’t see it our touch it. We had no idea what it was.
Of course we had our speculations and our hopes and dreams. But that’s exactly what those were, just dreams. And who knew if they would even come true.
Walking by the closet, or worse yet into it to get a pair of socks, was the worst part. You could see the mound of treasure covered by the blankets. Taunting you, mocking you.
That stupid blanket.
Couldn’t it accidentally slip off and reveal what was hidden underneath?
Couldn’t I just lift up the corner of the sheet with my foot and happen to glance underneath?
But there was always a voice in the back of my head telling me that if I looked, somehow my mom would find out. Or maybe the presents would just disappear into thin air because they weren’t meant to be seen yet.
Whatever it was, something kept me from ever peeking at my Christmas presents.
Never once did I look…but man did I want to.
And then we were forced to endure the most horrible form of torture, even worse than the covered mound in the closet. My mom would lock herself in her room for hours and we would hear her cutting festive paper and tape ripping and we knew she was wrapping our treasures. When she was done wrapping them, she would carry them into the living room, where Amber and Stuart and I were waiting with bated breath, and she would arrange the gifts under the tree. Knowing the torture she was causing the entire time. She knew, and she loved it. And then we all rushed over to the tree and sorted out which packages were ours. We could see their shape now, we could shake them and feel them, but we still didn’t know what they were. But our desire to know only increased the closer we got to the treasures.
I so badly wanted to know what my treasure was to be, that I never stopped to think about the joy that my parents took in buying me something they knew I would love, wrapping it up, and making me wait, and then seeing my face when I finally saw my treasure for myself. They loved to give me gifts because they love me, and because I was made to wait, the surprise was even more sweet.
Their purpose in making me wait to see their intended treasures for me, was not to torture me or cause me pain. It was to increase my joy in the end.
I am learning that my God is the same way. He knows exactly what treasures He has in store for me. And he delights in giving me little glimpses of what they could be and allowing me to dream about them. He has them hidden away for his own perfect timing and when it is His timing, not only will He give me the treasures he has stored away for me, but he will delight in seeing the joy that they bring to me.
We all desire to know things that we cannot know, and daily I find myself asking God about my treasures, about the things that he has promised me. And he says over and over, be patient my child. We all want to know where we will end up, what our calling is, who we will marry, what will happen with this situation or that. But what we so often overlook is the joy that God finds in surprising us when we least expect it.
It’s so easy to want to sneak a peek under that blanket…
But it’s so much better when we wait for the perfect moment, then not only do we get to enjoy the treasure, but the gift-giver gets to see our faces when we open the gift we have waited so long for.
Of course I still ache to know what treasures await me.
But I’m not going to try and figure it out before it’s time.
Surprise me…
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