The
Christmas Afghan
A
personal story
by
Sarah Jinright
December 14, 2012
Scripture Reading: Luke
6:20-38
The
project hadn't started out related to Christmas at all; in fact, my
family called it “the millennium blanket” because the afghan took
me three years to crochet. This king-sized monstrosity kept my
fingers busy during most of my college breaks, until finally, after
the New Year in 2000, I finished it. Months later, I packed it into
a box and loaded it onto the moving truck that would take me to my
first real job as a high school teacher in Virginia.
The
afghan assumed a proud place in my new home. Folded over a loveseat
where it caught the streaming afternoon sun, I often came home from
teaching and smiled to remember my distant family. Seeing the afghan
there reminded me of all the love and laughter that had surrounded me
while I stitched its many, many rows. In that way, it rescued me
from home sickness, and before I knew it, the Christmas season had
arrived. My new church had an interesting tradition. Every year,
members donated crafts to a silent auction and had a “Christmas for
Others” dinner. The proceeds from the auction were divided amongst
the church's missionaries in a bonus Christmas check.
Though
I had not been prepared for the first auction, I decided I would
participate in the next. I bought yarn in country red, blue, and
off-white; and began an ambitious American Flag pattern. Then, about
a third of the way through my project, Walmart discontinued my yarn
colors. Consequently, my project fell by the wayside, and before I
knew it, it was Christmas time again.
On the
day of the “Christmas for Others” banquet, I walked into my
bedroom and shrugged. It really was too bad I didn't have
anything to donate. And then my eyes fell on the millennium blanket.
A
still, small Voice said, “Oh yes, you do.”
And I
answered the Voice out loud, “Oh no, I don't.”
A
battle of the heart ensued. For most of the afternoon, I fought the
notion that I knew the Lord had placed in my heart. Finally, I gave
in. My four roommates witnessed quite a scene. I marched the afghan
out onto the back porch to air it, tears streaming down my face.
With shame, I recall that my gift that year, was not given
graciously.
Nevertheless,
the afghan went for a good price. What was done was done, and
Christmas rolled into New Years without too much more thought on the
matter. When I returned to Virginia after a pleasant Christmas with
family, my roommates and I gathered around our little tree to
exchange late holiday surprises. When my turn came, my roommates
grinned like four Cheshire cats, and presented me with one large box.
Inside,
the box was the Christmas afghan! Apparently, they had conspired
with someone in the church, to use their funds to buy the blanket
back for me. From that moment on, the afghan's significance changed
for me.
I was
stunned with this thought—this simple, well known, trivialized
thought: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his ONLY
BEGOTTEN SON.” At Christmas time we celebrate God's great gift to
mankind. God gave his best and his only Son for us.
Thirty-three years later, Christ returned to Heaven as only He could,
in VICTORY, having conquered sin and left mankind with hope—not
just for eternal redemption, but for intimacy with Himself.
A
decade later, the Christmas afghan continues to remind me of God's
great gift and of His goodness toward me. Every time I look at it, I
am also reminded that anything given to God will always be returned
far better than I could imagine it.
In
September 2011, I got the Christmas afghan out early, on September
5th, to be exact. It was the day my husband kissed me
and our children goodbye, the day he put his hand on my belly and
spoke love to our unborn son, the day he headed off to Navy boot
camp. Though my heart was absolutely certain that Wade was following
God's plan for our family, seeing him go was indescribably difficult.
He was (and is!) the most precious thing that I have in this life,
but by God's grace, I'd let him go—not grudgingly—but with a
willing heart.
That
night, as I draped the afghan over my bed, I thanked God for a life
lesson, given at Christmas time more than a decade before. The
lesson it represented had been recalled again and again through the
coldest seasons of my life. “Give, and it will be given to you. A
good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be
poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be
measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)
God
loves a cheerful giver! This Christmas, give to all and especially
to God with a willing heart, and trust Him to return your
gifts to you with eternal dividends!
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