As soon as my cold waned, Doug and I began planning where we would go for Christmas. The weather had been erratic for So Cal, so choices were somewhat narrowed, but with good planning, we still had a wide range of options. We chose
So, two days ago found me at the front desk of the Tropicana Hotel on The Strip in Vegas. The clerk, Sand, was very friendly. We chatted while she did the necessary paperwork, and she gave us an upgrade on our room since Christmas isn’t exactly a prime tourist time in Vegas. She handed me our keys, explained the route to our room, which required both sides of an 81/2” by 11” sheet of paper. I fetched Doug, complete with suitcase, knitting bag, camera and laptop and off we went. I led the way, map in hand, past the craps tables, through a maze of clanging slot machines, up an escalator, across a bridge spanning the tropical-themed pool area, and around the corner to the elevator area painted bright strawberry yogurt pink and emblazoned with parrots sitting amongst big green leaves on a vine curling across the elevator doors. Up we went. Up all the way to the 18th floor, where we exited, turned right and finally entered our room. We were greeted by a large window looking out at The Strip, bamboo furniture and bamboo framed mirrors on the walls behind and to the side of the bed and on the ceiling overhead. (Hey, it’s Vegas.)
I was ooohing and aaahing at the view when the phone rang.
“Linda? This is Sand from the front desk. Are you missing a purse?”
I knew instantly, without even checking.
“A small blue Guatemalan bag?”
“Yes. What are some contents in it that could identify it?”
“A chunk of turquoise and some loose change.”
“Yes, that’s it. I have it right here. Someone picked it up and brought it to the desk and I just knew that it was yours. I’ll send it over to Security. You can pick it up there.”
I thanked her again and she repeated how she had just known, somehow, that it was mine.
Back to the pink elevator, across the bridge over the pool, down the escalator, and right there at the bottom, as Sand had explained, was the Security booth. I explained who I was and the situation. The Security agent asked for ID. I gave him my Driver’s License and he peered at it. After a few moments, he explained that he didn’t doubt my ID, but that he had forgotten his glasses that day and it took a bit for him to read it. We both laughed about the vagaries of age, he handed me my little purse, wrapped securely in an envelope and officially labeled with my name and off I went, back through the maze that led to our room.
I find this to be an amazing story. An anonymous stranger found my little purse, turned it into the desk where the clerk who had checked me in just “knew” that it was mine and contacted me immediately. It’s not that the little purse is so valuable – the change in it is less than a dollar, and while the chunk of turquoise has some monetary value, its value to me is symbolic and sentimental. No, this is a Christmas story.
The Christmas story tells us that we are touched by something far greater than ourselves. When we open to and accept that, something is birthed that blesses and redeems our lives. By listening and looking closely, and by believing, we can be led to this Presence and honor it with our gifts, the gifts that in Truth, are gifts from that Presence. I call this Presence “God.” Others may call it Spirit, Life, Universal Power, Goddess, or maybe not have a name for it, just know that there is something more than us as individuals. And in that “something more,” we are blessed and share our gifts of Love and Beauty and Joy in our connectedness. Today I say thank you to God for the sharing of the Turquoise with people I didn’t think I knew. Thank you, God, for this shared moment. Thank you, God, for the connection of the One. Thank you, God, for Christmas
Merry Christmas to All of You, however and wherever you are sharing this day!