Christmas Present: Courage

     Twas the morning of Christmas, and my alarm was set. The treasured task was given to me; I was the gift giver, the one sent to silently slip upstairs and pour candy and little tokens into the socks spread over the window seat. I woke before my alarm rang, the hour of five calling my consciousness to come back. I stole upstairs, the fairy-lit tree and white electric icicles my only light as I carried the small basket of gifts in. One by one, I lifted the gifts out of the stockings to slip the candy, the oranges, and other small tokens in so the gifts in white wrapping paper would not be crushed. I tried to avoid waking my mother, wrestling silently to open a set of razors (pink, gifts for the girls), and hunting unsuccessfully for scissors. The razor package took more time than the rest of the blessed task, but it was done, and I smiled at the row of seven large stockings (and one tiny, empty one, for Corran cannot eat candy, nor oranges), then sat down on our large, warm couch to open my gifts.
      I had the razor, the pencil, the orange, the delicious chocolate, the bottle of perfumed lotion, and pine-permeated candle. But there was one gift down in the toe, one I had no idea what was. I opened and read by the light of the tree a note that made me smile, and then carefully, slowly, opened the present. It was gift from a friend, a pendant hanging from a chain. The ramping lion's claws were high, his tail also above his head, and "COURAGE" was written across the middle. I smiled, a bit amused, and turned it over. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9. I had once asked a friend to pray for courage, and the same friend who gave this gift texted me that verse. For all my dislike of texting, that was one blessing I did not forget, for I kept the text, and was often warmed by rereading it, remembering how it spoke to me when I was afraid, God's truth slicing the fear and dissipating it. Tears slowly falling, I put the more enduring memory of courage on. I have not taken it off since, except to sleep or shower. It is a memory of God's strength in the past, and an Ebenezer for the times to come, for I leave in less than a year, God willing, to go far from family, to make a new home overseas, and courage is a gift I must have from Him. It is a blessing to know He has already given me some, and given me a marker to remember it by. And it is a blessing to have a friend who sends me messages, and then marks them with silver.