Second Chances...

A loud rapping at the door awoke me from a deep dreamy sleep. It was early, too early to be awake, and certainly too early to be out in the streets pounding on doors. I thought that there must be some emergency in town and ran to the door to find out whatever news there was from whoever was there. Much to my surprise, there was no-one at the door ready to identify themselves and their message, and yet a package with my name on it had been left at the door. It was a most curious circumstance, and yet I saw no real harm in it, because secret gift giving was the hallmark of the holiday season. I myself had delivered many a gift in that manner over the years. The package was heavier than it should have been from its size, and once I had it indoors I eagerly opened it to find out what it was and who had sent it. Alas, there was no identification of the giver, and more's the pity because what was inside was a most remarkable carved wood box, worked with figures of animals and dragons all over, in a magnificent shade of red. Whoever sent it to me must have been a prankster, though, because I could see no way into the box, no clasp or lock announced itself, no hinge or platen presented itself as a means to the inside. I was locked out, and most frustrated by this unfortunate turn of events.





I set off for the kitchen and, if I was lucky, a screwdriver. It occurred to me that the painstakingly detailed carving would be ruined by my bullish attempt to get to the contents of the box. Curiosity urged me on. I picked up the box and it began to hum, seemingly loudly enough to wake the entire neighborhood. A quick glance at the dog though, found my faithful pooch legs up, snoring like the good guard dog he was.

I placed the box on the kitchen counter for fear of dropping it and the hum abruptly stopped. How could it be? My mind fought hard against the perception that this small thing had been the author of that hum. Yet the memory of it was like ripples in a pond long after a stone has broken its surface. The box now seemed an ominous, living thing.

I found the courage to reach out and touch the box again. Nothing. Without warning the box began to glow. My eyes filled with an intense, blinding light… then a vision. The face of my brother, these long years dead. My heart ached for him. The vision changed to my first singing performance. Applause washed over me like healing water. My regrets, one by one played on that bright screen …everything I ever wished to re-do.

The humming returned so suddenly it was painful. The floor pitched and yawed beneath my feet and I fell to my knees. The humming crowded out the light and I spiraled into darkness.

I came to slowly, in an unfamiliar bed. I was afraid. Innately I knew these surroundings were mine, but I also knew I’d never been here before. Beside my bed was the red carved box. The sound of approaching footsteps created a sudden rush of adrenaline that threatened to return me to unconsciousness.

“Señora?” the door opened. “Yes?” I inquired. “Tu hermano esta llamando.” My head swam. I picked up the receiver at my bedside, “Hey,” the voice was unmistakable and darkness threatened again to swallow me up… “Hey,” I croaked back. “Let’s take the boys to the beach today. I’ll be over in an hour…get your sorry ass out of bed. Love you bye.” I couldn't answer.

Then I heard them running up the stairs. The three of them home and in my room laughing. They were little again … I held them and smelled their smell and cried. The box had done this! I’d prayed so many nights…. “Please God; I beg you…turn back the hands of time. Give me another chance. I know better now….” and now it was done.

There it sat ominously unsolved on my nightstand. As my children sat around me on my bed I didn’t care about its solution. It wasn’t for me to solve, just to pay it forward.

I’ll package the box again and leave it on some unsuspecting doorstep because after all, we do serve a God of second chances.