Share Your Gifts
“Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving.”
~ Erma Bombeck
Since the dawn of time the giving of gifts has been a tradition and an expectation. We give gifts to show appreciation, to express our gratitude, and to share in celebration. Gift giving is an outward expression of an internal emotion or feeling.
Sometimes we receive amazing gifts. Sometimes we are given gifts that just don’t fit our style or suit our taste. Sometimes gifts that we’ve received outgrow their usefulness but we feel guilty if we give them away.
The t-shirt your sister brought you from her trip to the Grand Canyon in 1996 that you’ve never worn. The figurines your grandma gave you every year for your birthday that now sit in a box in your garage. The vase your mother-in-law gave you in a color you would never choose that has taken up residence on the top shelf above your fridge that you vow to pull out and fill with fresh flowers when she comes to visit, but, you just never seem able to remember to do so.
At the time you receive a gift, you accept its intention, its meaning, and its value. The transaction has already been made. At no point did they ask you to hold onto it for all the days of your life until death do you part. (And if they did, well, that’s a different conversation.)
They gave it to you because they wanted to express a positive emotion while adding value to your life. If it’s not adding value to your life, and you’re hanging onto it out of guilt, you’re giving away your power. I’m hopeful that the intention of the giver was not to diminish your power nor to add any more stuff (or guilt) to your life.
We all possess gifts that may not seem of importance to us but would add incredible value to the life of another. Giving and receiving is a universal expression and a key ingredient that helps keep us aligned and in balance. We must understand that the art of life is not about the acquisition of things. The art of life is the reciprocity between one another.
I once received an interesting cheese assortment that included an amazing selection of teeny-tiny jars of jelly snuggled next to some bite-size sausages. It was during the holidays, and, although I was grateful for the gesture, I came to the conclusion that someone else would be able to appreciate this gift much more than I.
So, along with a friend, we loaded up that mini feast and headed out to find a potential recipient.
We eventually landed at the local bus station.
There was only one man there. Dusk was just beginning to settle in. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder and a duffle bag rested at his feet. We certainly didn’t want to offend him, and we didn’t want him to assume we thought he didn’t have enough to eat.
I mustered up my best unassuming voice and said to him, “Looks like you’re headed on a journey.”
He looked up while he brushed the hair out of his eyes.
I went on, “I received this gift, but I have been given too much. I have too much cheese. I’m thinking these little treats would fit nicely in your pack.”
He looked me over. I could see he was suspicious. His expression seemed to say, I really would like to have that, but what do you really want?
Without waiting for his response, I said, “Really, I have too much cheese. I can’t eat it all. I want to share it with someone.”
He relaxed a bit but remained cautious.
No response.
I asked, “Where are you headed?”
“Los Angeles.”
Pause.
We waited.
He continued, “Things haven’t been going so well, so before I get myself into something I can’t get out of, I’m going to go and check in for a bit.”
We nodded with acknowledgment.
I motioned to his guitar and questioned, “Do you play or do you just carry it around on your back?”
He gave me a little smile. “I play.”
I said, “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll trade you this snack pack if you’ll play us a song.”
He narrowed his eyes and looked us over. He was intrigued.
“What do you want to hear?”
My friend asked, “What do you want to play?”
“Do you like Willie Nelson?”
“We certainly do.”
He reached up and slowly slid his guitar off of his shoulder and rested it across his lap. The sun had just set. It was a calm and warm evening. There were only the three of us sitting at this quiet bus station waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
“Ever heard of the song Me and Paul?”
We had not.
He began to play:
“It’s been rough and rocky traveling,
but I’m finally standing upright on the ground.
After taking several readings,
I’m surprised to find my mind’s still fairly sound…
We listened intently as he shared his gift of music and song.
When he was finished, he slid his guitar back up and over his shoulder.
I handed him the package.
He opened it, and, in one quick motion, slid all the goodies into his bag and handed me the empty tray.
“Thank you,” he said. “The bus doesn’t usually stop along the way.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Thank you for the trade. Good luck on your travels. You’re a terrific musician.”
I’m guessing that this man didn’t anticipate a couple of strangers showing up with provisions.
I know we didn’t anticipate a solo concert at a bus station on a random Monday night.
But what a gift we received.
When you give a gift, give it with an open heart full of love and let it go.
When you receive a gift, accept it with gratitude and remember that it didn’t come with a contract.
It truly is the thought that counts.