You know how sometimes you receive a present wrapped in newspaper, or maybe just shoved in a plastic bag? You’re thinking, “Really? This is how you present a gift?” And then you open it and find exactly what you needed.

Life delivers gifts the same way.

That sudden breakup? The project that fell through? The person who walked away without explanation? They arrive looking like disasters. They feel like loss, like something we now have to scramble to fix. We’re standing there thinking we’ve been handed a problem when actually, we’re holding an opportunity.

A friend helped me see this recently. Someone on my team quit abruptly after I spoke my mind. My first reaction? Panic. Scrambling. How do I cover this work? What does this say about my judgment? I was preparing myself for the awkwardness of future work, the HR complications, the messy transition.

And then I realized: I’d been holding onto a situation that wasn’t working out of obligation. Out of some story I was telling myself about being compassionate, loyal, giving chances, making it work. The real gift wasn’t that they left—it was discovering I’d been carrying something that needed to be released.

The badly wrapped gift was permission to stop being comfortable, to stop hiding, and to stop pretending.

This happens more than we realize. The deal that falls through makes room for the better one. The relationship that ends saves you from years of a wrong fit. The sudden change that terrifies you opens the door you’d never have found otherwise.

Here’s what experience has taught me: the longer you live, the faster you recognize the wrapping paper. When you’re young, every setback feels like the end of the world. At our vintage? We’ve seen enough of these badly wrapped packages to know what’s inside them. Not that they hurt less in the moment—they do. But we’ve learned to trust the pattern.

The trick is noticing sooner. It’s catching yourself mid-panic and asking: “What if this isn’t chaos? What if this is clarity arriving on its own schedule? What is the gift here?”

Because once you see it—really see that what felt like disaster might actually be grace in action—something shifts. You can never unsee it, and that is priceless.

I’m still learning to spot these gifts faster. But the more I practice, the more I recognize that terrible wrapping paper. And honestly? Some of the best things in my life arrived looking like the worst.

Thanks – Michael (he, him)

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This is also important – Walk in Your Workers’ Boots. 

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