Delighting in the Innocent Gift of Beauty

I know what I have given you…I do not know what you have received.

Antonio Porchia

One of my favorite childhood Christmas movies was The Little Drummer Boy, the story of a little boy who finds himself standing with the Magi in front of the newborn baby Jesus. The humble orphan has nothing to offer the newborn King except the gift of his drum playing. “I have no gift to bring, that’s fit for a king. Shall I play for you on my drum?”

The little drummer boy reminds us that it is not the grandeur of our gift that matters, but the love with which we give what we do have. Pa rum pum pum pum, indeed.

Getting into our car after dinner last night, we were delighted to find two colored pictures laying on the console. Our six-year-old granddaughter had snuck out and placed them there during our visit. Throughout the evening, she had made several comments about the car doors being unlocked and she reveled in the orchestration of her plan, teasing us with hints and sly smiles.

For a child, such a gift is an invitation to encounter. I’m thinking of you. I want to give you something special. Here is what I have to offer. It’s a physical manifestation of love and a sharing of affection. The child’s gift is her creativity, her effort, and the fact that you were on her mind to begin with. Our granddaughter’s gift-giving ingenuity only added to the delight.

The Christmas Season brings many conflicting sensations around gifts and gift giving. The commercialization of the holidays can quickly turn the entire process into one more project with a long list of boxes to check. Working from wish lists, we search for items, colors, deals, and improvisations, when the ideal cannot be found. In the case of major misfires, the ubiquitous gift receipt protects us from total failure.

Looking at those colored pictures laying on my counter, I smile at the beauty of such a creative gift. There is no contrivance or checkbox. No wishlist or sizing. Little Reagan simply used what was available to her and put her time into it. She poured herself into the creation and then creatively delivered her work to us. The beauty isn’t finally in the craftsmanship or colors, it is in the self-giving love in the act of giving itself.

We can easily see such beauty in the work of our children and grandchildren. However, with a bit of awareness, I start to see it other places. Dinner last night was prepared by our son-in-law. He came up with a plan, bought the ingredients, and delighted in the preparation. His creative vision yielded a first time effort at whole Branzinos (European sea bass) which were delicious. It was a gift of love.

Looking around my house, I see a small painting of the Cristo Redentor statue in Rio, created for us by one of my sisters. On the wall near where I sit typing this post, I see a string-art cross created by another one of my sisters. On the piano is a framed water color by Sally, depicting the Holy Eucharist. The bulletin board in our kitchen is covered with pictures colored and drawn by our grandchildren; each with our names prominently written at the top so we are clear they were made for us.

Such gift giving is an invitation to encounter. Acts of creation are so very intimate. They make us vulnerable in that they come from inside, from our personal store of capacities. They reflect a skill or insight, a particular thought and effort. We know what we’re giving but we don’t know how it will be received. When we give such a gift, we want the receiver to delight in it. And we want them to delight in us.

Of course, we want any gift we give to delight the receiver. But we open ourselves differently when we create. The child is unencumbered with fear of failure, rejection, or imperfection. Like the little drummer boy, she gives what she has, such as it is. We adults see the blemishes, the rough spots, the crooked lines, in the things we create. So much safer to buy the properly engineered, the beautifully designed, or the perfectly produced.

There are many opportunities for creative, heartfelt, and generous gifts to be purchased and given. Many of us will delight in fun, interesting, and needed, items this season. However, I wonder if we can find some room for the intimate, the risky, the bold, and the simple, that comes forth when we draw, paint, write, perform, prepare, or craft.

The proper response to any gift is to delight in it and in it’s giver. But we find particular delight in the innocent beauty of the gift created specifically for the other. The unique gift that cannot be returned or exchanged.