A Handful of Weeds

She clutched them tightly in her tiny hand. “Aren’t they beautiful, Mommy?” Well, they were yellow, I’d give her that, but beautiful – not in my opinion. “I picked these for you!” “Oh, thank you, Shug.” I replied.

My daughter was three years old and was so proud of those dandelions. We had to find a vase immediately. The only thought running through my head was, “I have a vase of weeds on my kitchen table.” The very thing that had been a thorn in my flesh now graced the table. We had fought with those stupid dandelions and yet they continued to invade the yard. We had tried treating the yard ourselves. No luck. So, we had the yard professionally sprayed, but the fields beside us were not treated and the seeds had blown over into our yard, taking good, solid root. What an eyesore! They could not be destroyed.

 

Our daughter beamed with joy as she marveled at the flower (or weed) arrangement on the table. She kept asking, “Do you like them, Mommy? Aren’t they pretty?” Of course I appreciated the gesture of her love. But they were weeds for Heaven’s sake!

The longer I stared at my daughter’s gift, the more beautiful her “flowers” became to me. Nothing changed the fact that they were still weeds. It was the love behind the gift that changed my point of view. I imagined her sweet little fingers diligently picking each and every flower. I could see her running around the yard from cluster to cluster like she was in a magnificent garden, a wonderland of beauty. She worked so hard to gather a gift for me. The gift didn’t cost her anything in terms of money. But collecting the gift took time, energy, and passion. As those thoughts came to me, I appreciated those dandelions more than if a dozen expensive roses adorned my table. I was ashamed of my initial thoughts. Every time I see dandelions now, I think, “how pretty”. I relive the knock on the door and the vision of that precious blonde haired angel with sunshine in her hand. Dandelions are now a message of beauty and a reminder of my daughter’s love to me. My girl is older now and the gifts keep coming. They still come packaged in passion, laughter, joy, surprise and a wrapper of love.

So what is a gift anyway? A gift is defined as something given voluntarily without payment in return, to show favor to someone. Our Father God sends us gifts on a daily basis. In your life, what do you receive from him? For me, it’s the smile from my girl, or the hug from my husband. It’s the breath I take, the beat of my heart, and the song of the morning. It’s a word from a friend, the uniqueness of who I am or the memory of a loved one. What do we do with these gifts? Do we even consider them? What about the gifts that come packaged in pain, hurt and disappointment? Do we celebrate the gift of peace from Him found in the midst of those trials the enemy hands out? Do we see His gifts like a handful of weeds or are they a glorious bouquet?

I found a beautiful scripture in Proverbs 18:16 – “A gift opens the way and ushers the giver into the presence of the great.” A commentary I found had these thoughts about the Proverbs verse. “Blessed be the Lord who makes us welcome to come to his throne without money and without price. May His gifts make room for Him in our souls.” He gives freely. His desire is that the gifts we receive from him (and may I add that they come to us in many forms – through friends, family or maybe even through your own little blonde haired angel) would allow him to find a place to abide. His presence living in us and all that comes with it?  Now that  is what I call a gift.