Last week I went to a “Secret Santa” Christmas party. We all put our presents under the tree upon arrival and dove into the holiday fare and festive drinks. I bypassed the Veuve Clicquot and the Whispering Angel rosé (it seems that’s the trendy wine these days) and quickly found the Pellegrino. Parties like this were a little tricky for me in early sobriety, but with over 20 years under my belt I rarely have any desire to drink. Bonus: I feel great the next day and I remember every conversation. If Whispering Angel had been around when I was drinking it may as well have been called Screaming Devil.
When it was time for the gift exchange I drew the number 1, which meant that I got to pick first from all the presents. My eyes went immediately to a beautiful box wrapped in exquisite paper and swathed in silk scarlet ribbon tied in an elaborate bow. It was the prettiest present under the tree. Whatever was in that box was surely something I’d wanted my whole life. Until I tore away the wrapping. (Okay, full disclosure. I gingerly released the taped edges, unfolded the perfectly mitered corners, smoothed out the paper and carefully rolled it with the ribbon to take home and re-use.)
It was a fruitcake. A cardboard-and-cellophane-boxed supermarket fruitcake. Really??? Who eats fruitcake? Certainly not me. Who gives fruitcake? Maybe someone who wants to get rid of one that was given to them? Maybe even last year? Because nobody eats fruitcake so who would know? I grumbled silently as the gift selection got underway.
So the way the game works is when it’s your turn you can choose from the gifts under the tree, or you can STEAL a gift from someone who’s already opened theirs. Certain gifts were very steal-able, and made their way through numerous recipients. The stealing was aggressive, competitive, even a little nasty, fueled by the flowing supply of alcohol. But…big surprise…no one wanted to steal my fruitcake. Finally there was only one gift left. It was a lumpy package, crudely wrapped in wrinkled craft paper and a stick-on bow that kept falling off. The holder of the last number tore it open…and inside was the most gorgeous hand-knit scarf I’d ever seen.
Sometimes externals are deceiving. And sometimes what seems like a hardship or tragedy turns out to be the best thing that could have happened. I’m reminded of an A.A. meeting I attended in early sobriety. Someone said “I’m Joe, I’m a grateful alcoholic.” Grateful? To be an alcoholic? But I realize now that I am too. I’ve received so many gifts because of the work I’ve done on myself in recovery and the changes I’ve made in my life. Not only do good things come my way when I do good things, but I’m much more inclined to look for silver linings in the clouds. And I always find them.
Poorly wrapped gifts are everywhere. A job loss that opens the door for something much more fulfilling. The break-up of a relationship that wasn’t working. An arrest for drunk driving or drug possession that paves the path to recovery. As an A.A. sponsor and a recovery coach, I’ve heard countless people express gratitude for their own particular tragedy. “If I hadn’t…lost my job, wrecked my marriage, alienated my kids, gone to jail, almost died…I wouldn’t be sober today.” Sometimes when you hit that bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up. And that’s when you start receiving the gifts.
Back to the party. As I thought about the ways one could possibly re-gift a fruitcake (anonymously perhaps?) someone called me back to the tree. The game wasn’t over. The downside of going first is that you never have a chance to steal. So the person who picks number one gets to go last as well! I hesitated, but hey, that’s the way the game is played, so I nicely and apologetically claimed the poorly wrapped, beautifully knit scarf. Convinced that the friend I “stole” it from was devastated, I apologized yet again and she replied “it’s totally fine, those aren’t my colors. Besides, I kind of like fruitcake”.
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