The gift

The label reads with childish scrawl, “For God.” The space following “From” remain blank, glaringly so. I do not sign my name. I can’t. I’m too ashamed. The paper is wrinkled, a humble presentation. I tried three times to get it right. Tears in the wrapping attest to the effort.

In the moment before I give the gift, I hesitate, reconsidering. It’s nothing really and he is after all God—but I so wanted something to give. I know he will not laugh at my gift, but will he like it? Will he want it?

It’s nothing really. Just my treasures. Nothing of value. A few hopes, some dreams. Worthless by man’s measure. My plans, my future. It’s not much to offer. It would be easier to keep it for myself. But I do not trust myself, and I have nothing else to give.

The hesitation ends.

The gift is given. One look at His face. I cannot regret the decision.