The Gift

Laying deep within her little soul was a small unwrapped gift. It laid there so quiet, just waiting for the day she would reach for it and untie its pretty bow and unwrap its pretty paper and let it spill out into her very being
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It laid there, deep in her heart, unmoved, just waiting. It laid there all through her childhood and into her adulthood. It laid there so quiet, just waiting because she didn't understand it. She didn't know where it came from, and sometimes when she was a little girl, she didn't like it. She didn't like it because it was full of tender....tender feelings, deep serious thoughts, and sometimes tears that would roll down her cheeks and fall unbidden onto her lap.

After all, a little girl is suppose to get gifts like a brand new bike, or pretty ribbons for her hair, or hold a beautiful doll in her arms. She got all those gifts when she was a little girl, but this special gift was there to....just waiting. A teenager may get laughed at if she told her friends about that little gift, that lay there deep within her soul. When she became a new bride and then a mother, she was to full of joy and to busy to even give that little gift a second thought. So it laid there.....waiting

She doesn't know why....maybe it was life's experiences, maybe it was becoming a grandma, she doesn't really know. But for some reason her heart started to soften toward that little box and it started to look prettier to her. She wanted to open it and let it spill out. So she slowly reached for it and carefully started to untie the bow and started to pull away the paper. She cautiously opened its lid and out flowed something that words cannot explain. It spilled out into her very soul. Why had she been so ashamed to open it? Why had she been so slow to open it? Maybe it was not suppose to be open until now. She didn't know. She doesn't know who placed it there within her little being. She wonders if it may of been her mother and dad who so quietly and patiently wrapped up a bit of their own self and placed it in the very being of their baby daughter.  She doesn't know who gave her this personality. That doesn't really matter. What does matter is that it is part of her very being and it was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was special. It was the way she felt about life, how she felt about nature, how she felt about experiences and people.

Every time she sets quiet on a mountain top, and listens to the thunder echo off the snow covered tops, or watches an eagle sour in the deep blue sky, her heart sings. Every time she walks along a little creek and hears the water trickle over the rocks, or walking hand in hand with her husband under a sky full of stars and watch as the big yellow moon raises up in the eastern horizon, her heart sings
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She loves the sound of soft quiet music, or the call of the lone coyote out there some where in the dark. She thrills at the sound of the turtle dove, at the call of the bob white, or the rushing of water as it falls to its depths over a ledge.

Her tears flow unashamed when she looks into her child's tiny face, or stands quietly beside her chair as the new bride walks down the aisle and takes her place beside her bridegroom. She can't help the goose bumps that run up her spine, and yes once again the tears come to the sound of "Pomp and Circumstance." Her heart cries when she enters her empty house after telling her young son or daughter good bye and watch their car disappear beyond the trees on their way back to college. She walks through the stillness, looking into the empty bedrooms with their beds all made up neat, and she is both sad and proud at the same time. They both have turned out so fine.

She will never again be able to look at a sunset, that turns the western skies a crimson, and not count it a gift. She will never again be able to work under the big open blue skies, and not count it a gift. She will never again be able to set quiet alone, listening for God to whisper into her ear and not count it a gift. She will never again be able to watch as the sun pops out from under a storm cloud, tinting the tops of the cottonwoods in yellows and gold's, and not count it a gift.

Her heart will always have a soft and tender spot for those who are suffering. Her tears will come from deep within her soul as she stands beside a friend in sorrow, or a deep love will fill her heart clear up, when she sees a young boy or girl or old man or woman fighting so bravely to overcome a hardship. She loves those three words "I love you". To her that little word love has become as strong and as beautiful as God Himself. That little word love makes life worthwhile and death so beautiful.

She will always stand straight and tall as the United States flag passes by, and she will always remember when she stands beside a flag covered casket and in the background she hears the single bugle play "Taps".

Yes.....some may not understand. So may think...why so serious....why not have fun? Some may choice to see life in a different light.  That's OK and she understands. But she quietly bows her head and gives thanks for that special little box that was placed inside her little soul many years ago. That little gift that makes her heart sing.