After I opened all the gifts from my friends—funny, sweet, or practical things now sating amidst discarded wrappings and clutter—I saw one more package. Stunningly beautiful Why hadn’t I noticed it before? No tag, no clue of the sender’s name. I put it aside until my guests had gone and I could examine it more thoroughly.
Who loved me enough to send such a beautiful package-- too lovely to cast aside such colorful, artfully decorated wrappings? I decided to leave it front and center of my coffee table to enjoy longer and admired it every day for a while. Admiration morphed into a routine glance now and then and an occasional flick of my feather duster. When someone remarked on its beauty, asking why it remained unopened, I still insisted it was bound to be more beautiful than whatever was inside and I wanted to enjoy its mystery a little longer.
One day, when I came home from a disappointing visit with my doctor, I lay on my couch, wondering what would become of me, My gaze fell on the gift and I picked it up. Wiping away a film of dust, I found my hands ripping away that once vividly beautiful package—no reason to save it for later when there might not be a later.
Inside was only one pure white scroll with a title in gold lettering: Adoption Certificate and it bore my name. “With all costs borne by the Provider” I read, I have been named a Child of the King of All There Is. Entitled as co-heir with the Son of the Provider to inhabit the household of the Most High Creator, Provider, Healer, Loving King.
I thought back over the months I skimped and saved, ill and needy. Barely getting by when all this awaited me. All I had to do was receive the gift offered to me.
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