My twins and I are playing a popular seasonal game. It is called Elf on a Shelf, and while we do not limit ourselves to horizontal surfaces, we have had fun hiding our Santa's helpers. The ones we use are only three inches tall, and there is one for each of us. Each day, or every few days if the hiding place is tricky, I tuck one for each girl on a cupboard handle or in a basket by the stove. They hide one for me. I walked under one perched on a chandelier for three days.
By the second day Aurelle asked if I had found it yet.
"No, I'll check the kitchen." She cocked her head.
"How hard are you even trying?" she wondered without saying anything.
Two of them were made by a boy in elementary school. He offered them at a craft sale and they sold out in the first hour. One holds a lollipop and the other has a wreath. They have striped stockings, and different ethnicities. The one I look for is holding a string of lights, and was made by Hosanna who is pretty crafty.
It might seem futile at first glance. Hide it. Find it. Hide it. Find it. Why not just put it in a drawer and forget about it? But the adventure is in the looking, and so far we are all in.
John and I used to play a game with a stone heart. We took turns hiding it in surprising places for each other. Once he put it in a bag of peas in the freezer. It took a month for me to choose that particular veggie for dinner. But when I opened it, I laughed aloud.
Love eludes most of us, at least some of the time. We loved this person, generously in fact, a year ago. But today the affection is hard to locate under the current resentment. I wonder if angels gaze at us askance.
"How hard are you even trying?"
The tragedy is when we don't go looking for it.
