I have one answer for this question. I tell it every time I'm asked and I will tell it again. Bear with me.
I think it was Christmas 1999 and the whole family gathered at my aunt's house in Monroe, Michigan. Our family traditionally opens gifts before the meal so the lot of us gathered in the living room and the cousins instinctually sat in a circle around the outskirts of the living room, anxious and excited. Presents were passed out and, following tradition, the youngest gets to open the first gift and it proceeds up to the oldest.
There I sat in my jean dress and white turtle neck get up, eyeing the boxes piled in front of me. This Christmas was far more suspenseful than the seven before it because this Christmas I had asked for the most incredible gift a young girl like myself could ever ask for; an American girl doll. I had every catalog printed as leisurely reading and confidently cleared a space in my room expecting that I would be coming home with Kirsten, the newest and greatest gift to ever enter my realm of belongings.
Falling somewhere in the middle of the age line up, I anxiously fidgeted on the plush green carpet as I awaited the moment my name was called out and permission was given to open my first gift. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, my name was called.
"Kaitlyn, you can open your gift now. Here, open this one first."
My aunt knowingly picked out a long rectangular box and placed it in my lap. This was it people. This was the gift I had been washing dishes for, being "good" for, resisting fighting my brother for, and pining after all year.
The next few moments were somewhat of a blur but family pictures serve as a reminder to the shock and total enthrallment that I experienced when I opened the box and saw Kirsten inside. If you've seen The Lion King and are familiar with the opening scene in which Symba is lifted up by Rafiki over all the animal kingdom, then you also have an accurate picture of me lifting my new doll high above my eye-rolling, totally disinterred cousins. Tears of joy rolled down my face and I was lost in the excitement. In fact, I was so distracted that everyone else had opened another gift and it was already back to me. Sitting behind me, my mother nudged me that it was yet again my turn. I suddenly became torn. I loved this one so much I was quite content to stop right where I was. Besides, no other gift could compare to this one (my apologies family but it was a hard gift to top). I didn't want to put it down to open another one. With some coaxing, I gingerly sat Kirsten right next to me and picked out the next gift. Long story short, the remaining presents consisted of a myriad of accessories for my new doll, including bedroom furniture and an entire wardrobe, all of which enhanced the greatness of Kirsten.
I tell this story not to bore you or suggest that I may have had the most epic gift receiving experience ever created by one family. I share it because I hope to point out a beautiful truth that applies to both Christmas morning and the far more complicated nuances of life. The simple truth is this:
Only empty hands can receive.
In life we accept gifts in all different shapes and sizes; relationships, jobs, things, dreams, desires. Most anything can be viewed as a gift. Even the breath entering your lungs this very moment is a gift. Yet the only way to take the next breath is to empty your lungs of the one it's holding onto. In the same way, we must empty our hands of the current blessing in order to accept the next. I loved that doll so intensely and to put her down and even consider opening something else was entirely too difficult for my seven year old self to fathom. Little did I know that every gift after that would only make having her better. If I had never opened the remaining gifts, my doll would have had one outfit and zero accessories. If you are familiar with dolls, half the fun is in the accessories!
Whether it is a relationship that has been involuntarily broken, a job suddenly lost, a dream left to die, or expectations of any kind, all these things that were once blessings must be let go (whether we like it or not) and hands emptied in order to fully embrace and accept the next blessing. This process by no means intends to forget or diminish the beauty and blessing of the gift let go, but is done in faith and remembrance that the next one will only enhance it.
I have no idea where you're at in life right now or what you need to let go of. Maybe it's a new job and you're hesitant that it won't meet your expectations. Maybe you've lost something or someone and your staring at your empty hands in despair and bitterness fearing they will never be held by another ever again. I'll give you the naked truth about where I am. My hands have been painfully emptied of a great deal this year only to be filled with the hopeful promise of what is to come. The only way I can receive what is coming is to faithfully put down what I am clinging to and audactiously open my hands up to God in humble dependence that He will not send me away empty handed. I choose to trust that He will continue to build upon the great things He has begun in my life. I only need to let go of my timing, expectations, and desires, and adopt His.
In the end, it all comes down to this; Do you know about the One who gives the gift? He is good and faithful [Psalm 86:15]. His love is mind blowing [1 John 3:1] and He simply will not leave you or forsake you [Deuteronomy 31:6]. If you trust in the being, not the blessing, of the One who gives good gifts then, in faith, let go of what you're holding on to and know that what is to come can only be received by empty hands.
"If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"
[Matthew 7:11]
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