The Giver

My children all get excited when they get mail. (They take after their mama, I suppose.) They frequently get packages from their Papa Mike, filled with coloring books and crayons and cookies and candy and movies and all kinds of goodies.

Everyone wants to see what is in that box.

Of course, I can't just give them all that sugary goodness all at once. They'd be sick. But I dole out a little here, a little there, little treats they all look forward to. I use it as a reward for taking a good nap or finishing up their chores.

Today, a box filled with Easter goodies came. Lots of sugary sweets. I told the children when they finished their chores, they could pick out one thing each.

Most of them finished right away, so they got their candy right away.

One of them, though, slacked on his chores, and then started getting pretty desperate when he saw everyone else enjoying their candy without him.

But this blog post is not about him. It is about his baby brother. And their mother. And God.

See, baby Owen got his candy when the older ones got theirs. (Seeing as how, try as I might, I can not figure a way to get an 18 month old do dishes.) {grin}

But when the brother who had slacked finally got done with his chores and got his candy, the baby wanted more. He didn't understand why Josiah was getting candy and he wasn't. Enormous tears ran down his face as he pointed to the box, while murmuring some very sad sounding language.

I opened up the box, pulled out a couple more jelly beans, and gave handed them to Owen. He reached his hands out, took the jelly beans, and smiled, happy.

I reached down to give him a hug but before I could, he ran off, jellybeans tightly gripped in both chubby fists. He glanced behind him for a moment as he reached the door, then continued on down the hall.

And I know he's a baby, but I couldn't help but feel the Spirit of God gently rebuke me. Because I do the same thing sometimes.

I cry and plead for the things I want, the things I need, the things I think I can not be happy without. And God answers my prayers. I reach my hands out and He fills them.

And then I turn and walk away. Satisfied, temporarily, with the gift, instead of staying behind to love on the Giver. Instead of lingering, grateful, I glance back, and go on with my day. I forget that He is the Giver of all good things. Most importantly though, I forget that the greatest gift is knowing Him.

I am frequently amazed at how regularly the Lord uses simple, daily things to point me back to Him. He gently leads me on.

Friends, as we become more and more aware of the gifts He daily gives, may we also be reminded to stop to acknowledge, to worship and adore, the Giver Himself.


~amy danielle

{a repost from the archives, since lately I have been doing a lot of thinking about the Giver Himself, trying not to be overly distracted by His beautiful gifts... knowing Him, that is the chief thing, friends.}