Well, have I mentioned once, or twice, that I am an organized person? I enjoy organization. It is just an every day happy for me. Not every one else in my family enjoys organization as much. But this last week amidst the hustle and bustle of the holiday and company and just being flat out busy, I received a wonder filled blessing.
I was at home for an almost an entire day by myself. Now many of you may consider that to be a blessing in and of itself. All the company, and my family were out and about, and I just wasn’t able to do the schedule planned for the day, so I stayed home.
I started out the day with trying to rest some more. Well, after a few minutes of working hard to rest, I got up because, rest is hard work folks. Yes, it is. So, I made the official decision that since it was the day after Thanksgiving, I could start putting away the Thanksgiving decor. I decided that with each trip down to put away the items, I’d bring up a tray of Christmas decorations. It was a lovely plan that worked out pretty well. At the end of the Thanksgiving return trips, I stacked tubs on the stair steps for reinforcements to help me finish on another day. Christmas decorations far outweigh the Thanksgiving ones!
When I made my first trip downstairs and set my glass pumpkins and silk maple leaves down, I saw my kitchen scissors on a shelf. Now normally, this would not be such a statement making event; but for me it was. Back to me being an organized person. See, I have this drawer in my kitchen desk where my kitchen scissors belong. They belong there as part of my “a place for everything, and everything in its place” mantra. So, every one in my family knows where to look when they need a pair of scissors. And the good, and the bad of that is, that everyone knows where mama’s scissors are and they borrow them, and sometimes they don’t come back.
However, when I saw the scissors on the shelf, I felt a twinge of emotion because of the *scissor event* that happened last week when I opened my drawer to use the scissors, and they weren’t there. I called out any listening family member that I was needing my scissors and couldn’t find them in their *place*. I remember The Salesman’s response like it was yesterday. He immediately said that he probably had them in his office, and went straight to his office, and returned with a pair of scissors. I didn’t have the nerve to tell this kind-hearted man that the orange-handled pair of scissors he’d so quickly and kindly returned to me, were not my kitchen scissors. My kitchen scissors had black handles. I held out my hands to receive his scissor gift, said my thank you, and got busy with my cutting. As easily as it was to remember his precious response, I cannot think of what task I needed those scissors to complete. For cutting yes; but for what project? I cannot remember.
So on my kitchen counter, all day long, the day after Thanksgiving, I left the orange-handled-not-my-scissors out. I marveled each time they caught my eye. I kept rolling over the *scissor event* of The Salesman’s actions. I mean he could have said:
I don’t have your scissors.
I didn’t use your scissors.
I don’t care where your scissors are located.
Be quiet.
Insert a response here. There are so many options he could have said.
Or he could have said nothing. Shew. That gets me…
But, instead, he solved my scissor-less moment with what he had. He gave of his own scissors.
He didn’t even have my scissors.
I think it is fair to say that I took my kitchen scissors to the basement, for what project, again, I do not know. But it was more than ninety nine, point nine percent probability that I left my kitchen scissors in the basement.
I was the guilty party.
I didn’t even want to put his scissor gift back in his office. I found joy in seeing those orange-handled-not-my-scissors out on the counter for the rest of the day. I placed my kitchen scissors beside his office pair, and smiled. There was a sacredness to those orange-handled-not-my-scissors, now. A sacredness because The Salesman gave what he had. His act of service was one of being agreeable and helpful and kind.
The servant is the greatest of them all.
I got served an orange-handled-not-my-scissors pair of scissors and received the greatest blessing. Oh this was no organizational win, this was a deep, abiding, heartfelt joy that washed over me each time I glanced at his scissor gift.
As my heart reflects at this *Gift of The Salesman*, I pray that I will be the orange-handled-not-my-scissor-giver today, and every day. May I be the kind of person that hears a need, and looks at what I have in my hands to give, to meet that need, and then just get up and do it.
Indeed,
May I give to meet needs.
