I love words, but some finagle their way deeper into my soul than others, lagniappe being chief among them.

Lagniappe means is an extra, over-the-top, unexpected gift. A thirteenth donut is lagniappe. A free desert on your birthday is lagniappe. It comes from a Quechua word yapa meaning to add which morphed into the South American Spanish word la napa which landed as lagniappe in creole.

While I love a free donut (if you say you don’t, I’m not sure I believe you), I’ve taken my own creative liberties to broaden the word to all the over-the-top, gratuitous gifts from a generous God.The delicacy and design even of the discarded leaves of the fall we are eagerly anticipating in San Diego: lagniappe. The pink-hued clouds of a sunset on the beach: lagniappe. The lingering hug from a friend when your soul is sore: lagniappe.

Your love, Oh Lord, is lagniappe–
Unexpected, unmerited, undeserved.

We should be surprised by our surprise.
After all, ex nihilo is your modus operandi–
Out of nothing, everything;
Syllable-created surplus.

With Your superabundance, even scarcity
Is stuffed with lagniappe love-
Even darkness is not dark to You,
The night will shine as day to You,
For darkness is as light to You.

If there were leftovers of Your love
They would sate the starving soul-
But there need not be leftovers
From a God who is wholly whole.

A billion bumper crops couldn’t rival
Even a breadcrumb from Your Bruised Son,
Broken to feed the broken,
Fullness made empty,
Wholeness-become-undone.

Your love, Oh Lord, is lagniappe–
Pressed down, shaken together, running over.

I don’t know if this finds you in a bumper crop season or a season of scarcity. I don’t know if you are experiencing feast or fallow. I do know that our Lord’s love is lagniappe, and I pray that He would give you eyes to see and sense the little hints of wholeness that He has littered all around you in love. May your week be marked by notions of the never-ending love of God for you through Christ.