the little I give

I do a pretty good job at receiving.

Consuming moments for myself, I focus a lot on me. How can I can grow and how can I be better are questions that have obsessed me and contorted my view of what the purpose of life is all about.

Selfish ambition and personal gain are admittedly what I sometimes want more than anything else. 

I am known to sacrifice peace for comfort now. I take advantage of Christ and tend to take His grace for granted.

I know that God forgives and redeems, and honestly I tend to shelve what I should do for temporary self-satisfaction.

A vacation-like life is what I so often want. I dream of far-off places where people are always smiling, the weather is always warm, and the only sound is the swooshing of the ocean on the sand.

I want every part of my day to be happy and I gulp up those kind of moments as though my mouth is bone-dry parched. Dipping my hands in, I cup to receive -- and I gulp. 

Receive and gulp.

It's often times usually mostly all about me. I want all for me.

I'm not a very good giver. I begrudge people when I do, blaming them for the parts I want that have to wait -- the sweet dessert that I worry I'll never have; that might be all gone by the time that I can.

When life gets painfully awkward or uncomfortable, I want to ditch everything and run away.

I know that not every moment will be pleasant and that heroes are made in the grit and the muck. Those whose sustenance is drawn from the mire are refined through the fire, I get that.

The folks who stay and do, and roll up their sleeves to really work at fighting the wanting for self pleasure are admiring and sometimes so enviable. And frankly, I'll never be as good as them.

Comparison kills my content and keeps me from compassion (mostly toward self), I know this.

It's hardly life that I bring into moments when I want perfect and pretty and plain ol' happy. Stubbornness and rigidity leave me stiff and corpse-like, withered and frail.

I want everything my way and I'll risk nearly everything to get it, including my very life that sometimes stands on the edge of temptation, poised to give all of me away.

There is a part of me, though, that comes into each moment and imbibes on a slice of simple assuredness. It's a thin place where I accept all that is. Where I am willing to sleep on the floor, stand in the rain, and sit in the dark. Where I know more than a thousand gifts of beauty lie. 

When I come into a moment with my hands cupped, presenting even a little bit of me that breathes in all as it is, I am presenting an offering of what I think pleases God most -- kind of like the widow and her two mites who gave what she had to live on.

It's not the forced, stiff, polished self that He wants. He's not looking for the kind of resignation that gives up and surrenders the whole: giving a shit. He's looking for the part that says "yes" to this, whatever it is -- as it is. The what. ever. because I know it's just better.

There are times when my hands aren't just cupped to receive; sometimes I cup to present. It might be that most of me drips out and dies as I selfishly gain, yet a little bit of my life still actually lives.

When I bring into moments the little part of me that is full and that is free, that really is enough, and He really is pleased.

this is my worship. 

Linking with Emily

and Jennifer

 

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unwrapped gifts for mother's

The Boy-Man comes to me all anxious for me to see what he has for me.

A gift - because that's what Mother's Day is about, he tells me.  Giving mom's what they like.

I try to tell him that being loved by him is the best gift.  Still, he has no clue.

And so I take his hand and we go to the gift, and I chuckle.  The Man-Boy is still in bed and I wonder what he would say if he knew I saw this already.

A gift unwrapped.  Tissue paper and pretty bag inside the store bag, along with the thoughtfully purchased gifts.

It's the gift unwrapped that strikes me.  The Boy-Man isn't consumed with fanciness.  He is consumed with the gift itself and just wants to give.  

Still, I know - the gift was supposed to be wrapped, and the Boy-Man was too anxious.  Yet, I choose to see the goodness - the thoughtfulness - the excitement of the giving.

May your wanderings today lead you to gifts unwrapped, and may your Father show you how much He delights in the giving.  

Father, help us to not be so consumed with the *pretty package of giving* - the attempts we make at perfectly adorning ourselves with kindness and patience - and instead help us to just give and seek you for the grace.  

a meaningful *gift*

As a parent I want to give my son what he wants and what he needs.  Give.  Without him doing anything to earn or deserve it.

Sometimes, I need to teach and sometimes learning is the ultimate gift.

The boy needed a new bicycle.  His first-one-ever has become outgrown and for his safety he needs something that fits him better.

We could have just bought him one.  And we intended to.  Until a different kind of thought came to my groom's mind: maybe the boy-man should contribute.

It was a thought that was prompted by a comment my mother made the evening prior.  "Do you have money for {a new bike}?"

That question settled on my groom's heart and he wrestled with whether to give freely, or give a lesson.  He called me and we discussed his thinking.  His good thinking.  Together we decided what my groom had already discussed with the boy-man - he would contribute.  And so we paid for half and he paid the other half.

I think back to the wondering in my heart that morning, as I wrestled with whether to give the boy-man his allowance earlier than I planned - before he raised a significant amount to *spend* in a meaningful way.

Because I know the boy-man doesn't know the value of money yet, and he doesn't know what to buy with it, I intended to help him control his urge to buy some-thing he doesn't even want or need.  And yet, I could sense his desire to buy with his own money - his excitement for having earned the opportunity to spend.

God heard that wonder in my heart and He received it as a prayer.  I looked to Him for guidance.  He provided an opportunity to teach - a lesson in *spending* on something important and meaningful.

Sometimes we have to step back and not give so freely in the ways we usually do.

Sometimes the giving needs to happen in the withholding.  In the learning. 

My Father gives me just what I need - an opportunity to do *spend my time - {my life}* in a meaningful way.  To teach.  And to *see* His purpose in parenting.

Thank you, Lord, for knowing what we *need* more than we do.  

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Unwrapped *Gifts* of {Grace}...

...blueberry pancakes to celebrate the first day of Spring...

...how an empty house reminds me of the empty space my grandparents lives once filled...

...the boy-child's excitement for a field trip...

...a welcoming porch with places to sit and relax...

...how the piano ignites feelings of calm and peace...

...a difficult conversation laden with grace...

...my own mother's warm embrace...