There is a pile of presents sitting right there, all for you.
Why are you staring at them? Open them up.”
“They are beautifully wrapped,” you say. “Who are they from? It’s not my birthday.”
“Let’s look at the tags. Hmmm, they say happy birthday on them. Wait, no, they say happy rebirthday. That’s odd. Signed… Oh, how nice! They are from your dad.”
“Can’t be, my dad died when I was two.” You explain.
“Weird, it says–With love, from your Father, on every tag. Maybe it will make sense when you open them.”
With a quizzical expression, you rip the strangely luminescent paper of a color never seen before from the first gift, and your expression gets even more quizzical.
“What is it?”
“Peace,” you reply.
“You got a package of peace?”
“Yeah.” You pause for a bit, looking from the peace to the other presents. Soon indescribable colored paper is flying everywhere as you tear it from the gifts one after another.
When the dust settles, you have a stack of gifts that you suspect might be priceless. Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self Control, Forgiveness, Mercy, and Grace.
“They are beautiful.”
“Amazing, aren’t they? I am not sure what to do with them, though,” you say. “I don’t really know how they work.”
“I have a feeling you are supposed to carry it all with you, and share them with people. Do you know who it all came from?”
You tilt your head back, take a deep breath, and smile. “Yeah, they are from my Father.

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