The ornaments on our tree are varied. There are angels made of glass, wood, wool, cardboard, clay, and fabric. Some I picked up from street vendors in Florida and New Mexico. Others I created in a burst of energy with a passel of kids at my elbows. Some were gifts a decade ago, and I daresay the giver has long since forgotten her own generosity. But I remember. A tiny basket, a wooden heart, a white folded star all remind me of kind people in a way that is cumulative. 

 

I cannot find a similar metric in other arenas. I suppose an interest bearing account comes close, Yet those numbers increase much more tediously than the affection that spills out when I open my Christmas tins and begin to perch stars and sheep on branches. 

 

There is an artisan who made clay ornaments for the school faculty every year, for perhaps a decade. Each one is a treasure, and it astounds me that she found it in her busy schedule to bless fifty people's trees. Each has a quote from scripture, and tells part of the story. How can I ever repay her?

 

The conundrum of Advent, is that we can't. Even overachievers must surrender to the opulence of the season. Being part of the human race thrusts us deep into the altruism that bubbles up without warning. Instances of philanthropy fill up my inbox, or mailbox, and my daily life if I am paying attention. This week there are events at an evergreen planted for the community, named Luce. Singing, hot cocoa, a candle lit maze, and popcorn are some of the events being offered for free. 

 

For people who are enmeshed in a society based on contracts, and receipts, it is unknown terrain to stand in the place of Receiver.