As kids, my siblings and I had this thing about giving gifts. Be it birthday or Christmas we'd pack and wrap our presents to each other in the most outlandish way possible. Tiny, usually hand made or hand written gifts, would be tucked at the bottom of a cardboard box then hidden with layer upon layer of newspaper, tissue paper or discarded rags or items of clothing. To our credit, we always made sure the latter had been freshly laundered. At the actual event we'd squeal with delight as the recipient would paw through the "stuff" in pursuit of the prize at the bottom. We respected each other enough to make sure that the contents were far more attractive than the cover.

Those childhood years are far behind me but I still love the excitement of pulling back the wrappings of a gift; somehow there's just something about the cover that enhances the contents. This week I experienced that feeling even though it's neither Christmas nor my birthday.

Several days ago I received the cover images of my book and its formatted contents. All of a sudden those two years or so of research, writing, editing, mentally tossing it all out and then, grateful that I didn't erase it from my hard drive, finally finishing it. I've had access to a couple of edited versions and although that was an interesting adventure, nothing compared with printing out, in colour, the image that is to adorn my soon-to-be-released work. The "wrapping" if you will, symbolizes the investment in the contents.

God works like that in our lives: be they sorrows and pain or sunshine and prosperity, we only see the "cover" of all He has for us.

"Eye has not seen, nor ear heard… the [wonderful] things which God has prepared for those who love Him."