"The Gift"

On Monday, I introduced Fahrenheit 451 to my freshmen-- you know, Ray Bradbury's futuristic (and frighteningly prophetic) tale of censorship. In order to whet their appetite, I gave them another Bradbury nibble: "The Gift."

At a mere two pages long, this story wins the Brevity Award. Here's an even briefer synopsis, although I'll include a link at the end -- and, trust me, it's worth the read. It tells of a family who go to Mars for Christmas but, because of weight limitations, are not allowed to take their Christmas tree. (If you've flown lately, you know the current reality of that scenario!) Mom is disappointed, Dad is disappointed, and son is very disappointed. So, having boarded the rocketship, Dad puts his problem solving skills to the test. He tells his family that, although Christmas is just 30 minutes away, he must leave them for a bit. Twenty minutes later, returning, he announces that it's almost Christmas, and son asks again about the tree. Dad asks them to follow him, and he opens a door to a room where crew members are stationed and directs his son to the porthole. The boy presses his nose to the window -- where a vista of stars fills his gaze, and the crew sing Christmas carols. 

I love this story, partly because it's a great vehicle to teach basic plot structure and to introduce Bradbury and science fiction. But even more than that, it paints a beautiful picture of what God does for us. 

We think we want something, maybe something that is really quite good. We ask for it, we yearn for it, we pray for it. And then we don't get it . . . and probably pout a bit. Maybe we outright grumble and complain. 

But then something incredible happens. God gives us something infinitely better: a universe of stars instead of a dimly lit tree. 

"Has this ever happened to you?" I asked the ninth graders in my classroom. "Have you ever prayed for something and not gotten it only to get something much better instead?"  Their eyes brightened, and they nodded their heads. 

"I believe this will happen to you again and again," I went on.  "I believe that God will surprise you throughout your lives with incredible views of the stars when you have prayed for a modest tree. I pray that you will trust Him to give you what He knows is best for you and to be filled with gratitude at His rich blessings."

Dear Father, 

Teach us to trust that You know best. Show us that our wishes for ourselves pale in comparison to Your desires for us. Give us Your shining stars so that we can BE shining lights for You! 

Amen

Read "The Gift" here:  http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/2011/12/gift-by-ray-bradbury.html

Sweet Dreams

More from Homer... 

While Odysseus and his men wait for weather good enough to sail home, they hang out longer than they'd like on the island of Helios, the sun god. With their provisions gone, they find themselves starving. Having warned his boys not to touch the immortal cattle of the sun god, heroic Odysseus falls asleep praying for wisdom and then, when he wakes to find his men have ignored his warning and sealed their fate, blames the gods for letting him fall asleep.

Haven't you ever fallen asleep while praying? What a great way to drift off! What a peaceful posture for slumber! If your last words of the day are prayers, how sweet your sleep. 

As it turns out, falling asleep actually saves Odysseus.  What happens when the great leader snoozes? His men kill several off-limits cows (yes, another BBQ) and are cursed for it:  Helios entreats Zeus to strike them, going so far as threatening to take his burning orb to the underworld to light the dead. Not willing to risk losing the sun, Zeus lets loose a terrible lightning bolt, shattering the Ithacan ship and killing all the sailors. 

Except Odysseus. Innocent of the act, he is spared. Because he was sleeping, he lives. The very thing he cursed the gods for turns out to save him. 

How many times do we blame God for one thing and then realize later that He was actually protecting us from something else far more horrible? From our limited perspective, we fail so often to trust Him to "lead us in paths of righteousness." We think we know better. We whine. We complain. We rail against Him. And then, in hindsight, we humbly confess our foolishness when His way works best and we realize that, had we gotten our way, destruction would have ensued. He does, after all, see the whole story, all unfurled before Him though, for us, it remains tightly folded from view. 

Perhaps the best course of action tonight is to fall asleep in prayer. 

Sweet dreams.