Let me build this day as a gift for you, moment by small moment. No grand effort is asked of me. Let me bring my most meticulous care instead.
This gift, lovingly wrapped, I will present to you in a ceremony at day’s end. I am a child offering a small and inconsequential object to their parent. So proud am I of this work. So small and clumsy it is.
You will smile at me, and love me. I will think it has to do with something I have done, yet you loved me long before I even sensed you.
Who receives this gift? What is it? Is it the object, the effort, the intention, the love?
I am the bewildered one, Lord, building clocks and clipping bonsai bushes.
Open my eyes, dear Lord: the gift is for me. You are making it.
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