Yesterday Tim, I, and our puppy, Step, headed west to Palos Park and then to Lisle to visit firs, the man who married us…now in a residential facility, and second,to visit my aunt who is 95 and still living independently. It’s also a delightful time for Tim and I to ride side by side and catch up with each other. And so we journeyed west, carrying our gifts in a basket: chocolate covered almonds and Juice Plus chewable for Father Ed and homemade Millet Bread and homemade Blueberry Jam for my aunt. “Well stocked,” I thought, as we hummed over I94. “They’ll really like this,” I thought, confident my treasurers would make them happy.
We arrived at our first destination in Palos Park, opened our windows to allow Step cooler air, gathered the chocolate and chewable out of the basket, disembarked, and headed for our first visit. Then I thought, “Maybe I should leave the basket with the bread outside the car so Step won’t eat it.” And so I put the basket in front of the right wheel in the shade and off we went.
After mass with Father Ed we went outside to enjoy the glorious weather, and I went to the car to get Step so he could enjoy it with us. What did I find as I passed by the basket? The bread was gone! The jam was gone. GONE.
The basket was there. I checked all around. Then I checked again. Then I looked more closely. There, in the basket, right in the middle, was a note card…unsigned I might add…a shining white note card the front side of which had two words embossed: “Thank you”
I guess sometimes we just don’t know who is going to receive our gifts.