The Greatest Gift
Presents from heaven
February 26, 2019
Today I had a strange experience. It was like we had a conversation in my head, yet I saw you there, plain as day.
It felt like it really happened. And I wonder if it was a dream. Or a memory. Or maybe, it was a visit from you.
It felt so real. Like it actually happened.
But then I realized you weren’t here, and I don’t know what it really was. When I told my friend, he had the best response. He didn’t try to figure it out. He simply said, “That must have felt good!”
And it DID! It really did.
And it made me realize that it didn’t matter what it was. A dream. A memory. My imagination. It just mattered that it felt good. And it motivated me.
Maybe it’s me working through things. Maybe it’s a memory.
Whatever it is, it felt good.
So, I will continue to write. I will continue to remember. To embrace it. To feel good when I think of it. To be open. To know that you still watch over me.
That you are still with me.
Cheering me on. Inspiring and encouraging me.
I really need to get some sleep tonight so I can be ready for tomorrow. But thank you. It was great seeing you today. I love you.
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The Greatest Gift
Did you ever notice how a scent can stir up a memory from out of nowhere?
Maybe it’s a cologne from a man walking down the street that takes you to high school and your first love. Maybe it’s the soft, sweet smell of a honeysuckle bush that transports you to the yard in which you played when mom sent you outside on a hot summer’s day.
For me, the scent of sawdust sends me back to the days when I would sit in my father’s shed, the old tape player belting the tunes of Marty Robbins greatest hits, just barely audible over the sound of the table saw’s hum. The scent of sawdust, and a bit of sweat and a cold Budweiser bottle.
Some may say it sounds like the smell of happy hour at the local watering hole and who on earth wants to smell that combination? But for me, it smells like home. For me, it smells like Dad.
Now, most people wouldn’t love the combination of those smells, but when your dad is a carpenter, you would love the smell, too. You would revel in it on days when it felt like he was so far away that you almost forgot what it was like to be in his presence. You would love the way it took you back to your childhood and all the memories locked away in the depths of your mind.
So, when your cousin called and asked if you wanted that cedar chest, she was getting rid of, the one your dad had made, the one that would smell like wood and sawdust and all things carpentry, you would definitely say yes.
Especially when you were the last to be born. The “oops” baby who was unexpected. When you were the only one who never got a cedar chest of your own like your big sisters had. And when it was just barely a year since your dad passed that you would receive this gift.
This rare and unexpected gift that felt like it came from heaven. And when you opened it up and smelled the fresh cedar scent, those memories of Dad and childhood and all the moments you cherished.
