Friday, February 10, 2012
noun. a transparent, paperlike product of viscose. I handled quite a bit of it recently while packaging baskets for sick children. There were hundreds of volunteers, all doing various things on the assembly line of kindness. Someone put in the book, another added the spinning flashlight thingy, someone else, colored pencils and paper, etc. Each one of us doing our part.
The very best part of the day is that the recipients will never, ever know us. Will never see us, talk to us, we can't look into their eyes and see the joy of gifting. Yes, I said the best part. The compassion is what matters, the act of the gift creation.
In the happy rush of the opening of these gifts (as seen on television), the cellophane was the first thing that was discarded. Tossed aside, immediately forgotten. But I see in an entirely new light. It is a representation of the people who did the work, and that is something I'll never forget.
The cellophane people are the ones who wrap things up, add to the mission as a whole, tie on the pretty bows. If you think about the people you know, I'll bet you think about the cellophane crew as among the finest people you have in your life. They just do, and are content to help. As a matter of fact, it fills their cup. They can sleep well at night knowing that while they may be tired, they have worked hard to help others.
I like being with the cellophane people. I find most comfort in their presence, that is where I am most at peace. Cellophane people are happy with a day's work, proud to do this task. A job who's sole purpose is to make a little kid smile - a kid who really really really needs and deserves a smile.
Here's to you, my wonderful cellophane friends. For holding us all together with an invisible shield of kindness and compassion. Never discarded, never forgotten, and absolutely totally without question the most important part of the gift.