Gifts and giving being the prevailing theme right now, I find my mind returning to an early December day last year that was more than a gift — it was a grace. I came to think of it as a Day of So Much More.
The fall of 2011 had been difficult in various ways: overloaded schedule, distressing family situations, lingering moments of quiet grief over the recent passing of both my mother and mother-in-law — a recipe for physical, mental and emotional fatigue.
On this particular day I arose before sunrise, sat in a semi-dark room with my coffee and prayed for my sister who had just learned her mammogram showed something abnormal. I pulled aside the curtains at the southeast-facing window to see the sun rise and turn the scattered clouds glorious shades of gold, persimmon and purple. Watching this display, I called my sister and whispered my love and support as she headed out for the follow-up test. Driving to work later, my heart heavy with concern, I received a call from her. The test was over. The result — not just “It’s a benign cyst,” or “We’ve caught it early,” but “The original mammogram was in error. There’s absolutely nothing wrong.” So much more.
At lunchtime I walked to the River Market for a sandwich and a cup of soup at Boulevard Bread. I enjoyed my lunch and a few minutes of people watching, and decided to spend my remaining 20 minutes walking along the river. I pocketed my uneaten bag of potato chips and struck out into the cold, fresh, invigorating air. As I completed the circle and came back down President Clinton Avenue I passed a small, well-bundled old man sitting at a table in the sunshine eating a homemade sandwich and a package of crackers. I stopped and offered him my bag of chips to go with his lunch, and was rewarded with a beautiful smile and heartfelt thank-you. He got a bag of chips. I got so much more.
Two blocks farther I came upon a Salvation Army kettle attended by a pretty dark-haired woman. She was not only ringing her bell with gusto, but also singing “Silver Bells.” Her voice was lovely. I pushed a dollar into the kettle and received another beautiful smile and heartfelt thank-you. As I walked on she resumed the song, and “Silver Bells” followed me down the street until I was out of earshot. I received so much more than a dollar’s worth of joy.
I suspect these days of So Much More aren’t actually random or occasional at all. I suspect every day is a Day of So Much More, but most of the time I simply miss it because I’m not looking for it. I don’t practice stillness and attention. I become riveted on the trees instead of the forest. I don’t expect So Much More. Maybe the gift I was given that day wasn’t the day itself. Maybe the gift was simple awareness of the always-present abundance around me.