Monday, November 9, 2015

We are each given a gift...

"I can see God in everything. I see Him in my rye grass!" I cried during a come apart last Sunday afternoon after confessing that I felt ugly inside and out. My husband nodded; he knows. He has admitted that it is hard for him to find God continually in the things I do.

Later I sobbed, "But maybe I see Him everywhere, because if I didn't, He knows I would be hopeless."

That is not true, I know. Well, I know it now that God has rescued me out of that most recent storm. But at that moment in time I felt hopeless, a continual failure, an impossible project held together by a thread. His thread.

"My father told me...a long time ago...that we are all given something...a gift," an old shepherd says to Mary about the child in her womb in the movie The Nativity Story, but when she asks what his gift was, he shakes his head and answers, "Nothing but the hope of waiting for one." When the angel announces Christ's birth, "Rejoice! For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy...", and the old shepherd flocks to look at the Savior with many other poor shepherds and sees him with his own eyes and touches him with his own trembling hand, Mary repeats to him, "We are each given a gift."

I know my gift. Understanding Scripture easily it is not. Perfect knowledge, a God's eye view? No. Courage I have to pray for every day. Humility and selflessness are constant decisions to be made. I don't yet know how or when to be silent and serene most of the time, how to bear my yoke patiently. My prayer is clumsy. My thoughts are wild. My heart needs constant fixing. But.....friends have said that what I do have is a childlike faith. That is my gift.

I truly see God in everything.



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