Brown Paper Packages Tied Up with String

Fighting Practicality with Bits of Twine

As I tied the twine around each finished present, I heard the sound of a voice in my head bemoaning the wanton waste. Though I love beautiful things, for some reason this year as I wrapped my presents, a sense of waste and excess kept welling up inside of me and tempting me to forego any adornment and to leave my gifts wrapped but without any added embellishments. Images of recipients struggling to untie the twine or of tearing apart the paper which I had so carefully folded kept flickering through my head and seemed to present themselves as arguments against meticulously tied and bowed packages.

But I love beautiful things! I love warm candles, hot cups of tea, heart stopping sunsets, cozy blankets, artistic masterpieces, eloquent poetry, and beautiful churches. So why in the world was I so bothered by the little bits of twine that I was using on my otherwise simply wrapped gifts? I hadn’t even specifically purchased the twine as part of my gift wrapping, it was just something I already had in my house. But in spite of the significance I give to beauty, a voice of utilitarianism kept badgering and judging me for “wasting twine.”

Every single gift I wrapped was an occasion for this temptation. However, though I struggled each time, I'm happy to say I overcame the fear of “waste” and instead chose to adorn my packages and thereby elevate each gift a little bit. And though each package was simply adorned, the twine holding the brown paper name tag in place changed the gift. A gift that could have been wrapped for the sake of being wrapped now became an occasion to present someone with something beautiful, even “needlessly” beautiful.

Time and again we’re confronted with this choice, the choice between doing what is “practical” and doing what elevates our hearts and souls. The straightforward path often is to opt for something easy, useful and efficient. We don't want to waste time, resources, or energy on any sort of added superfluity. Even someone like me, who seems to continuously harp upon the subject of beauty, falls into this trap of heeding the utilitarian voice.

But just as my simply wrapped presents were elevated by the extra twine I already had in my house, so many things we do each day only require a tiny extra step to elevate our spirits. Though I could have used the twine for something practical, by using it to adorn my gifts, I allowed the pieces of twine to enter into the deeper spiritual meaning of Christmastime. This twine no longer is merely spun around a spool in my house, shoved in some forgotten basket in a cupboard. Now this twine represents a bit of my heart. By including an extra flourish of something I could have used in a practical matter as a “superfluous” addition to my gifts to others, perhaps I am giving away a little bit of my practical selfishness in each gift.

All of this is not to pat myself on the back, or to brag that somehow because I had time to put twine upon my gifts they have become more sacramentally endowed with meaning and grace. A gift without twine, ribbons, bows or frills may end up being just as beautiful. All these ramblings strive to do is attempt to refute that voice in my head, that utilitarian whisper, arguing that beauty is not important and that only practicality and efficiency should prevail. So, silly as it may be, my Christmas wrapping success is not that I learned a new wrapping technique, made my own wrapping paper, or elaborately tied ornate bows, but rather that I unwound a spool of twine, let go of my reservations, and slowly fought to preserve the beauty of simple things.

And now my dear reader, I turn to you and wish to express my gratitude for your presence in my life. Although I'm not able to wrap up a gift in brown paper and tie it up with strings, I offer you only this simple, simple phrase: Merry Christmas!

May the wondrous light of the Infant Christ pierce the darkness and fill you with hope and joy this Christmas and always. God bless you!