Love is a gift

It is the time of year for giving. The many traditions of the season, be they religious or secular, offer ample opportunities for us to think of and express feelings for one another in the form of physical objects that we purchase or make and then hide inside boxes and beneath wrapping paper. Presents. some call them. Surprises.

Our holiday customs are not just quaint. They can be touching, even eloquent. There is an expressiveness within the selection of the ‘perfect present’ that embodies emotions more fully than words can sometimes suffice.

If you are like me, you may struggle, at least intermittently, with the scheduled routine of some gift exchanges. “Are you ready?” we occasionally ask each other in December. The reference is to the purchase of sufficient items for exchange with family, friends, and colleagues. It hints at the semi-obligatory nature of the season, expectations that must be lived up to, preparations made such that an adequate display of affection and caring is possible at certain times and in certain events. This isn’t just for Christmas. It includes Hanukkah, New Years, Solstice, and other traditions. There are also end-of-year non-profit donations, and tokens of cheer and appreciation at holiday events and parties. During the final two weeks of December, there is no shortage of circumstance for us to demonstrate magnanimity, thoughtfulness, and generosity.

It can feel a bit burdensome, at least sometimes. Which can, in turn, lead to intermittent self-deprecation and cynicism. What kind of person am I that I don’t unequivocally enjoy the annual chance to shower fondness and good will on others?

Well, I am human. Actually, I am one human. In truth, I am one of billions of humans, all on a journey to experience something beyond our individual selves, something that some like to call the divine.

As part of my own journey, I have, in recent years, begun a new personal tradition in December: a visit to the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona. The building is small but structurally inspiring; twenty-eight meters of textured concrete ascend within the red rock buttes of the high Arizona desert. A large iron cross supports both narrow chapel walls and a large bronze crucifix stationed internal to the southern smoked glass side. The aesthetic affect is stunning. The personal impact is stirring.

“Let’s stop by.” Last Christmas Eve, my wife and I happened to be driving in the vicinity of the Chapel and decided to brave what we expected would be significant crowds. We weren’t disappointed, either by the crowd size or the experience. So this year, as part of some inexplicable motivation for renewal, a sort of seasonal homing instinct, I returned. Again, I was not disappointed.

The morning was unusually damp, cold, and moist; clouds floated against the Sedona rocks as if they themselves understood the rarity of the day. People gathered on the walkway and within the walls of the small chapel in varying states of presence. Quietly, I moved through tourists and spiritual pilgrims to the front of the chapel. As a child, when I attended church with my mom, we always sat up front. In memory of her, I did the same. A wooden bench was free, so I used it. A stand of devotional candles was before me, so I made a donation and lit some candles. I did not, at first, look up. I simply sat. I closed my eyes. I was.

It is a remarkable experience to feel loved. In my life, I have been blessed with much love – from my parents, my wife, my family, and many friends. I know they love me. They know I love them. But knowledge is different from experience, from being. Resting beneath the gaze of compassion in that chapel, I felt an acceptance that previously I have been hesitant, even fearful, to let myself feel. To be willingly held by the universe in a state of non-judgmental love is to live a moment of the marvelous, the mystical, the eternal. It is to learn a bit more about the nature of love.

Love is freely given. Love is willingly offered. Love is a gift in the truest sense.

When I opened my eyes, a mother and daughter were standing next to the stand of candles. They offered a donation, identified an unlit candle, and found a partially unused wooden taper stick. The candle they selected to light the taper stick, and hence transfer the devotional flame ,was one that I myself had lit. Minutes later, another family approached the stand of candles. The same process ensued. And second candle that I had personally lit was used to transfer this next family’s own intention to another newly ignited wick.

We are able to love freely. In doing so, we accept and share more than we will ever know. Love is the most precious of gifts.