Yet, this day, I am remembering the wrinkled wrapping paper which occasionally surrounded Mom's gifts to us kids. I am holding one of those gifts in the hands of my memory even as these words are being written, turning it from side to side, admiring how Mom's careful eye made every corner seem as new, every former tape mark disappear and every crease seem as a part of the design. No, Mom never ever just slapped paper on a box or a gift the way I am often wont to do, she chose carefully the paper, just as she had chosen the gift. Nothing accidental or happenstance here, especially when she used the wrinkled wrapping paper . . . for it was the wrinkles themselves which told you how much Mom was thinking of you. Let me explain . . .
First, Mom never threw anything away. Mom was a child of the Great Depression, the youngest of four children born to her parents three years before the Stock Market crash of 1929. In her eyes, everything was usable, reusable and usable again . . . and again, until it was no longer usable at all. People today know little of such a mindset.
Second, Mom never wanted her children to have to 'make do' the way she did, but she also didn't want us to grow up not appreciating everything we had. Whether what we were given was new, hand-me-down, grown-into or from somewhere else, we always knew from the look in Mom's eye to the way she wrapped our packages for birthdays, Christmas, Easter or whatever other occasion, Mom had made a very intentional decision about the gift and us. What was given and the way it was wrapped was always from Mom's heart to ours.
Lastly, in my mind, some of the most precious gifts I could ever receive were the ones wrapped in wrinkled paper, for the wrinkled paper gifts told me Mom had chosen to reuse some wrapping paper because, whatever the design or appearance, she thought it the best for the gift I was being given. Simply put, the wrinkled paper gifts took more of Mom's love to select, more of Mom's time to wrap, and more of Mom in every fold and tuck. Mom didn't just 'make it work' for the gift, she made it holy in her care. Even today, I miss the wrinkled paper gifts my Mom used to wrap for me . . . Oh, I still occasionally receive wrinkled paper gifts and even a few comic page gifts, but now it is mostly because that was what was handy or cute, rather than chosen just for me. I can tell the difference - and so can you.
Maybe that is the reason God chose to send God's dearest Gift of Love as a Baby . . . wrinkled, wrapped just right and carefully placed where all might come to know Him. Were Jesus just to 'appear' all smooth, starched, new paper, new tape and new ribbon, most folk probably wouldn't have given Him a moment of their time thinking Him unapproachable, too good for them or even beyond their understanding, No, instead of all that fanciness, God chose to come as a Baby with the wrinkled skin of an Infant, the crumpled Grace of new life placed in a manger, wrapped with the carefully swaddled cloths of Mercy, attended to by the Hand-smoothed folds and corners of Hope, all held together with the tenderness and strength of Angel's songs and Shepherds stories, then topped with the bow of Wise Men's gifts. God so loves you, so sees the Good in you, so believes in God's own vision for you that God takes the time to use what everyone else might regard as 'the least desirable', the wrinkled, to wrap the newest and best of Gifts in Life . . . for all people.
Today I am remembering the wrinkled wrapping paper which occasionally surrounded Mom's gifts to us kids . . . and am thanking God for a Mom who loved us so deeply that her life, her choices, even the manner in which she wrapped her gifts all pointed us to Jesus . . . and I am praying you a wrinkled wrapping paper Christmas, too.
Blessings on the Advent journey!
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