Every year, it seems we begin the holiday season earlier and earlier. At the time of this writing, mid-October, some are already lining up their shopping lists and scheduling their celebrations. Many of the gifts given at these celebrations will end up on dusty shelves and forgotten in toy boxes before the year is over. However, some gifts keep on giving.
The pillow below was given to me years ago by a sweet-spirited saint, Florence Holloway. Having met her when I was a young minister of music, she was one of the choir members that had been there since the church started, and one of those church mothers that you could honestly say “never spoke an unkind word”. But her most unique talent was her gift of giving. She spent hours and days looking for the perfect gift, and during events everyone would look forward to the thoughtful items she would give to her friends and family. It was obvious that she chose them with love and care, in a way that said to you, “This is why you are special.” Clearly, that’s how I felt when she gave me this little pillow with the saying “There’s a special place in Heaven for musicians.”
Sister Holloway has since passed on to receive the greatest gift one can receive. But her little gift has continued to remind me that my gift as a musician has a purpose. For years now since then, during every morning prayer, I’ve knelt on this pillow. It reminds me that faith I possess was not discovered by me. It was a gift forged by the prayers of my forefathers and foremothers. I remember that the dear saints before me handed down some principles that support me in my weakest times. And I’m encouraged, as Paul encouraged Timothy, to stir up the gift within me as I honor those that planted the gift in me.
Today, my gift to my descendants may not be as tangible as a pillow under their knees, but it’s just as important to pass on the knowledge that they are unique, that they have purpose, and that God has a special place in heaven for them. That’s a gift that will outlast every holiday season, and will sustain them long after we have moved on.
I hope to leave a legacy that my children can kneel upon.