Just an Ordinary Brown Bag

Toys! All kinds of exciting inventions teasing imaginations of parents. Which one would capture the delight of their children this Christmas? There were toys that fly, toys that talk, toys that promise better grades, more friends, popularity with peers and happiness. As I listened and watched the pre-Christmas pitch, I thought, “… and within a week, maybe a little longer, many will be forgotten.” Why so pessimistic, you ask?

When the Cabbage Patch dolls were the rage and were sold out as they came off the trucks, it was the first time I entered the buying competition. Then, I found out how much they cost and there was no way one fit our budget. I started making them. I worked for weeks sewing and stuffing and finally I had one for my daughter and one for my niece. Satisfaction! I could hardly wait for Christmas.

What I didn’t calculate was the fact that my daughter was too young to know she should covet a Cabbage Patch doll. Oh, she liked it. She liked it for a couple days. Then, one day as I was making dinner and she was in the kitchen with me, I noticed she was playing with a brown paper bag. It wasn’t the first time she took a bag and turned it into all sorts of different shapes. It occupied her the whole time I cut and peeled and stirred and set the table. Amazing.

Later that night when the house was quiet, I thought about that brown bag. It was my time. I picked up the brown paper bag that had become a favorite toy and held it. There was a colored marker on the table and I began writing on the bag. Hmmm. I filled in all the spaces with little things that had happened during the day. The washing machine died. Brian brought me three dandelions, the first of the season. I found $5 in Bill’s pants pocket when sorting the wash. My next door neighbor came for coffee. I cleaned the boy’s bathroom. The shower when the kids were napping was delicious.

The brown paper bag was now transformed with words creating a design. I looked at it and smiled. Dear God, this is my prayer. I realized my regular prayer was mostly words written by old men and not my own. There is a place for such words but maybe, just maybe, God wants to hear from us about things that matter in our lives. Simple things. Simple things in our own words. Our thoughts. Our fears. Our joys. Our hopes. A brown bag prayer, I thought.

Oops, then I remembered—I forgot to mail the electric bill. Just enough room on the brown bag for forgotten bills. Goodnight, God!

Pat Pickett, OblSB

Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.