When a Bitch meets an Angel

When I say "bitch," I mean this - in the bitch's own words - as a term of endearment. And this bitch is the most endearing one you will ever meet. She is a kind and caring soul to her core, a woman of faith. She is no angel; she is but human suffering like the rest of us.

I saw her recently when we went to a holiday party where everyone was supposed to bring a gift for a “white elephant” exchange. We were a little reluctant to go. Why, for instance, would we want to go to a party to exchange crappy gifts with people we don’t know well enough to think that could be amusing?

We went, nevertheless, and brought an elephant as our gift - albeit a brown one. We had acquired it in a similar gift exchange but rather than feeling stuck with it, I rather liked it and kept it for several years. It had hinged limbs and has sat on the mantel every year alongside the Christmas stockings. 

The elephant became sacrificial when a week before Christmas, I didn't have a gift for a gift exchange that I didn't really want to go to in the first place.

Once the party was underway and everyone had been served a drink, the gift exchange began. It was played as a game. We all drew numbers to determine the order for each of us to select a present from under the tree or to steal a previously opened present from someone who had already taken their turn. With 41 players, it was destined to be a long night of embarrassment. My number was 12.

The first player opened a bottle of wine. A fine gift. Surely, it would be stolen by player number 2.

The next gift was a martini shaker in the shape of a penguin. It was was a nice present. I planned to steal it myself if I got a chance. I guessed the giver had gone above the budget of $20 set by the hostess (it also came with vodka) but the gift also seemed to reveal an unspoken theme for the evening. I mentally slapped my forehead for bringing an elephant, white or otherwise, when alcohol would have been the safer bet.

Trepidation set in. Players number 3, 4, and 5 selected their gifts. No one was stealing because no one selected duds from under the tree. As predicted, all of the gifts contained some quantity of alcohol. I was starting to strategize that I should select my own gift from under the tree and act appropriately disappointed for having selected a (nearly) literal white elephant. At least someone else wouldn’t be stuck with it.

Then, it was player number 11 who provided my solution. Their gift was handmade pottery - items made by dear friends of ours. They had just taken an introductory class and these pieces were their "mistakes." Rejects to them, the bowl and mug were treasures for me so when my number was called, I swiftly snatched the pottery gift from player number 11 without explanation or apology.

At this point, I will clarify that I am neither the bitch in this story. (Nor am I the angel.)

The elephant was eventually selected and I felt sorry for the recipient; she was clearly disappointed. I was relieved when the woman who was standing to my left later stole the elephant and claimed it for herself. I was surprised that someone actually wanted it.

A later player got a knit hat that looked like braided dreadlocks, another disappointment. However, the potter who made my bowl loved it. He traded his alcohol-related gift for the hat and immediately put it on. The dreads fit him to a T. Both parties to the trade were happy with their outcomes. Things seemed to be working out for all involved.

Finally, everyone had their turn but two presents remained under the tree. Coincidentally, two people in the room didn't have gifts: the hostess and the bitch. 

The crowd roared that the gifts should be distributed. One appeared to be a wrapped candle but the other was a mystery. The group's decision was the hostess should receive the candle and the bitch should get the last remaining gift.

The bitch unwrapped her present and found an angel. The woman who cherished my brown elephant had brought it. It was a metallic figure that could be hung as a wall decoration.

The bitch sobbed. She sobbed for a recent, personal, and tragic loss. She sobbed for a loss other people have suffered. Her heart was broken and as much as she is a positive light, the sight of this angel reminded her of an anguish she couldn't contain or understand. It was like a message from heaven. 

I don't know what the message was, or what it meant to her. To me, it meant that everything will eventually work out as it was meant to be although that's impossible to imagine in time of such momentous loss. 

2022 was hard for me, in its own way, and for people I love. There was the loss of loved ones (some expected, some not). There were diagnoses of cancer, covid, flu, and pneumonia. Others were sick but didn't know what they were sick from, just beat down and exhausted. It all seemed to pile up in the month of December and made for a very sad way to end the year.

I say, good riddance to 2022.

However, that angel reminds me that there were far more good moments in 2022 than bad ones and that life, though difficult, goes on. 2023 promises more of everything - the good and the bad. My heart aches for the people who are suffering or having to struggle through horribly difficult times. My prayer for all the bitches in my life - and remember, I call you this because I love you - is that the good will eventually outweigh the bad in 2023 and beyond.

Just hang in there and watch for angels.