God's gifts aren't always tied up with pink bows. Sometimes the strings aren't tied up at all. There are times in life when his gifts are unexpected. There are times when his gifts unfurl gradually like the opening of a bud.
There are days when you feel decisively odd or less than attractive, so you talk with God. You tell it like it is, and God that he is, he takes it right on the kisser- without need for apology. In turn he doesn't lay you out, as you so equally deserve, but instead gives you peace, contentment. Now this contentment comes only in waves, as the sea. You are not submerged in it. No, gently it rolls over you. Bathing you. Then you, of course being you, try to resurface and it rolls away. Out once more, only to come in again. A sea of contentment. A gift.
A dear friend allows herself to be the fragrance of peace and assurance. And through the rare rose of friendship you see that maybe there is nothing implacably wrong with you. Maybe you are not as odd as you thought. Maybe you are... just tall.
During a Lenten luncheon you sit next to an elderly lady you have never met. In the middle of the hymn sing she motions for you to lean near. She needs to tell you something. Taking you quite by surprise she whispers, "you are beautiful."
There are days when you feel decisively odd or less than attractive, so you talk with God. You tell it like it is, and God that he is, he takes it right on the kisser- without need for apology. In turn he doesn't lay you out, as you so equally deserve, but instead gives you peace, contentment. Now this contentment comes only in waves, as the sea. You are not submerged in it. No, gently it rolls over you. Bathing you. Then you, of course being you, try to resurface and it rolls away. Out once more, only to come in again. A sea of contentment. A gift.
A dear friend allows herself to be the fragrance of peace and assurance. And through the rare rose of friendship you see that maybe there is nothing implacably wrong with you. Maybe you are not as odd as you thought. Maybe you are... just tall.
During a Lenten luncheon you sit next to an elderly lady you have never met. In the middle of the hymn sing she motions for you to lean near. She needs to tell you something. Taking you quite by surprise she whispers, "you are beautiful."The gift's of God are complex and simple, big and small, instant and in progress. They are your journey, and they are your pain. These gifts are sweet, severe mercies. Gifts that leave scars and rejoicing. Whose remembrance is sweet, like the giver. These gifts call on us to say thanks be to God. To cry out: Thanks be to God. Because sometimes those are the only words the soul knows to say.
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