Tuesday, December 27, 2011
It was a gray, happy Christmas here. Among the many things that my parents have done well is to teach us how to give. And so, come Christmastide, we gift elaborately to one another, practically swimming in the ocean of wrapping paper, literally basking in the goodness of generous, grateful hearts. Sometimes I wonder vaguely if it's too much, and of course it is. We don't need all these shiny things. But love itself is a little like this, isn't it? It just keeps welling up. And it doesn't have to be that way, but there it is: overflowing our hollowed hands.