Just like the stirred together mess of two cups of flour, plus sugar, baking powder, and some eggs gets poured into a pan and comes out a cake, tidbits of one thought, a word from another, and a visual reminder of a moment in time flow together to recreate a hidden memory.
Components. The Wall Street Journal had a holiday section titled My Best Christmas Gift Ever which was choices by important people. The blue ribbons were a variety from a Hello Kitty panini pan to a horse to a Tonto action figure to time given to life after surgery. I found a picture of me at age four holding the reins to a Sheland pony named Bill. Maybe he qualified as best. No, my dad liked my having him more than I did. I couldn’t saddle or mount by myself and he had a bad habit of running under clothes lines to dislodge this weight on his back.
Back to the drawing board. Lately I’ve been re-readibng journals I wrote in 1999 just to see what I was like then. In the middle of October was a story about the winner. It wasn’t a gift to me, but to my best friend Joyce. The year was 1945. Victory in Europe had been won in May and supplies on hold during the war were just coming back. For Christmas, Joyce got a bike. The frame was thin and steel, no chrome or exotic paint design. and it had narrow tires instead of balloon tires to still conserve rubber. The first challenge was to balance oneself while mastering the motion of pushing back the kickstand and hefting your bottom up to the elevated seat without toppling over before you could begin peddling. To win a chance to learn to ride, my helping hand was to run behind and guide the rear wheel until some degree of pedaling expertise was learned.
Eventually, I did get my own bike with a basket to carry the bicycle pump because my tires were the upgrade that leaked and needed refilling. Seven of us, names of my childhood, claimed freedom of motion to cover our world until a driver’s license tweaked the mix. That togetherness was the best gift ever. This Christmas no children were out with new means of transportation. They may have to wait to think of who knew best what they needed and it was the perfect gift. Both being a giver and a receiver count.
A gift opens the way. Proverbs 18:16
Let Me Tell Ya 