The roots bare at the bottom of the container, no covering, not even water and the plant makes its first attempt to yield fruit, springing up three happy yellow flowers begging to be pollinated. I follow the instructions and gently rub my finger from one to the next and back again hoping that my finger can do the job of the bee since this plant is indoors with me.
I am like this plant. My roots long and healthy but often holding onto nothing that should sustain life and I still attempt to bear fruit, be the light in someone’s day by spreading The Light of the Son.
I take a sip of coffee and then another and for a second I wonder how anyone can drink something so disgusting. Then I look up at the ceiling-sky and I apologize because many have nothing to drink at all.
A gift – coffee
I pray that I can soon sponsor a child through Compassion with the compassion and grace of our Father God. I desperately want to hold the letter from a child in my hands knowing that my tithe is going towards the future, the future of that child, the future of compassion and Compassion, the future of the Word being spread on. I feel blessed to know so many who do sponsor a child.
The moths click as they hit the window unaware that there is a clear sheet of glass preventing them from reaching the light. I wonder to myself if there is some invisible barrier preventing me from reaching God? Am I just a click on a big clear ceiling? Is there something else I should do, does the Lord God want more? I feel worn as though I have nothing left to give. Yet I know when I reach down deep inside that grace lives there and His Light is my life.
I read in the Nesting Place that the child they sponsor was excited about cement walls, a tin roof, pipes for water and electricity to do homework by. I am privileged. To think I stare up from my bed and look at the floorboards of the main floor above, I see the duct work that brings the house heat, insulation to protect me in this cacoon of house, wires running for lights, satellite, phone and the imaginary lines that I can’t even see that make up my Wifi connection. I wonder if the Nesters child would consider wifi to be some form of magic?
I know this girl and though we have never met she feels like a forever sister in Christ and its thousands of wires and lines imaginary and real that connect us so we can say a simple hello or have a conversation about anything or everything or both. She told me what her first Compassion letter said and the English was so broken, so true. I prayed for her child, I pray that she will be able to sponsor her all the way through.
A gift –books
I averaged them out to 10 dollars each, that would be 800 dollars conservatively. So I offer to read and review and I get many books free or I am even paid for the ad space. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that 80 some books are all spirit based. God is working. Working for free.
Each day He calls and I read the daily devotion. I turn the pages on the calendars and read them too. I worry that He will speak to me and I will miss it, overthink it, or not recognize it as Him. So, what if Jesus calls and I miss it? Will he call back, leave a message after the beep, become a voice in my head?
He is the sower and I am His seed. He has given me everything I could possibly need. (Tweet this)
A gift –grace
The cup of grace is the silver cuff of grace, acknowledgement, thanksgiving. The wreath wooden hand made by children of God sits high on a shelf in my closet waiting for advent to come, so it can display our glorious wait, inching along until the Good News arrives. I could open up the wreath now and endlessly count down while I lay in wait for Him to arrive for the second time.