Wisdom from Howard E. Butt, Jr.

On this blog, you’ll find more thoughts from Howard E. Butt, Jr. about the intersection of faith and daily living. It’s wisdom in bite-size pieces similar to his successful radio spots, just one more way to tell the story of his efforts since 1956 to integrate faith and work.

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Longing for Super Presents?

12.3.06

Most of us remember a Christmas when our entire life seemed to depend on receiving one never-to-be-forgotten present. We probably daydreamed about this gift on long, wintry afternoons at school, looking forward to the tedium of our daily lives being forever banished by this gift. Oh, what a paradise would arrive bundled in wrapping paper and tied up with bows!

When my family was still living in Harlingen and I was ten years old, I rested all my hopes on receiving a Spalding Super Anzac tennis racket. It had a slit down the throat between head and handle, which allowed the racket to whip through the air, both powerfully and deftly. I dreamed of holding it aloft in celebration after devastating victories. A Spalding Super Anzac! I could see myself, along with Fred Perry and Don Budge, a tennis legend!

As Christmas approached, I began sneaking, over and over, examining the presents under the tree. None looked as if it could be a new tennis racket. Hmmm. Not good.

I had made my wishes clear to my parents, believe me. They hadn't chosen to teach me a "character-building lesson" this Christmas, had they? Didn't they understand what a Super Anzac would mean to me? It meant . . . it meant . . . everything!

On Christmas morning, I crept down the stairs to the landing, from which I could see the Christmas tree in the living room and the dining room and sun room as well. I looked to the right and to the left—scanning virtually the entire downstairs. There still didn't seem to be a tennis-racket package anywhere. Ugh! Dejection!

After my five-year-old sister, Eleanor, and I made a "racket" of our own, my parents finally woke up (it was light outside after all) and let us tear into our presents.

When the last Christmas paper had been shredded, I still had not received a Super Anzac. I tried to maintain my composure, but soon all I could do was cry out, "But I wanted a tennis racket!"

"Well, look behind the round couch," my parents said.

There, bewitchingly concealed, was a tall box with SPALDING clearly marked on the side. I flew to it and tore the cardboard apart. Inside lay my old beat-up tennis racket. This was character building in absolutely its worst form, I feared.

Before I dissolved not so quietly into tears, my parents made a huge to-do out of retrieving and presenting a second long-handled package in fancy paper. This one held the Super Anzac! As I gazed at this most-prized possession, I couldn't utter a sound. I was flooded with relief, astonishment, delight, and perhaps even gratitude.

But I began learning a lesson that day. With loving parents, short-lived gloom turns into long-term grace. "So how much more will our Father in Heaven give good gifts" (Matt. 7:11).

part one of an essay titled "Super Presents" published in Laity Connections, November 2000