“The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, therefore I have hope in Him.” Lamentations 3: 22-24 (NASB)

“Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” Well, that’s not exactly true. I was stirring.

On a recent visit to our daughter’s home in Virginia, I tip-toed down the stairs early the first morning to savor a few quiet moments before the beautiful noise of a busy day with our grandchildren began.

Entering the front room, I cupped a warm mug of “something to get my eyes open” and made my way to the big chair in the corner. “The children were nestled all snug in their beds,” and I wanted them to stay that way until I got a few sips down.

While the tree lights cast golden shadows on the wood floor, I pulled a knitted throw over my legs and breathed in the scene before me. Christmas really is a beautiful time of year.

But what was that under the tree? This early in the season, presents were still tucked in closets, out for delivery on Amazon trucks, or more likely, mere ideas on a mental list of possibilities. Though my eyes were finely open, I found myself squinting. I took another sip, and squinted again.

Beneath the tree lay the oddest—well—were they presents? A closer look revealed the most unusual array of gift-wrapping I had ever seen. The wing of a fighter jet poked from a single glove. Crumpled pages of a magazine peeked from a backpack still filled with yesterday’s homework. Bulky treasures bundled in t-shirts and secured with rubber bands hid beneath the low branches. Here and there a random toy lay in plain sight like an offering upon an altar.

Christmas had come early this year. In fact, it came early every morning for our entire visit—for it seems our five-year-old grandson has discovered the joy of giving.

Each morning, as everyone gathered in the big room with their own eye-opening brew in hand, our grandson, not yet relegating the celebration of Christmas to a single day (which of course, it isn’t) eagerly headed to the tree shouting “It’s Christmas!” With great ceremony, he placed his cleverly wrapped gifts into each hand. Back and forth from the tree to the receiver he delivered hair clips to his mama, a thermometer hidden in his dad’s house shoe, long forgotten issues of Combat Aircraft magazine, action figures, even a purple crayon for his sister—her favorite color.

Among my gifts was a blue transformer, which sits beside me as I write, and wrapped in a pair of Spider-Man pajamas—a small pink book by A.A. Milne entitled When We Were Very Young. As a fresh supply of presents appeared beneath the tree each morning, this gift-giving ritual became a devotion come to life.

Lamentations 2:21-23 declares “His mercies are new every morning.”

What a perfect home for this reminder, for how often does your limp spirit wake lamenting your situation and begrudging your deficits? Yet all around you, new morning mercies from the hand of The Almighty are waiting to be opened.

Can you see them? Try Squinting.

There is forgiveness lying in plain sight like a healing balm to be poured over the painful wounds of sin and regret. Every morning a clean slate is yours for the taking, for our God does not keep score.

Strength for the day. Not your puny, wilting strength, but powerful endurance for all you are facing.

A steadfast love not hinged on your worthiness but love that flows from the heart of the One who gave His life for you.

The Father’s faithful presence that never leaves you, and a compassion that meets you where you are, but promises to never leave you there.

Squint again and you will discover other mercy gifts wrapped in unexpected ways.
Perhaps you will find encouragement tucked into the smile of a friend, or direction rolled up in the wisdom of someone who has walked your path.

The first couple of mornings, we thought our grandson’s gift-giving a fun and quirky game, but it was not long before we came to expect and even look forward to what gift we might receive and how it would be wrapped. I suppose that was God’s plan all along.

Will you share this lesson with me and allow God to use a five-year-old boy to teach us both a valuable truth? It is a simple but hope-filled one:

When we look for God’s new morning mercies, every day can feel like Christmas.