It was the best gift I could get at that moment.
When I went stumbling out onto the porch, nearly falling over it, the long box laid on the floor, it looked like…
And so I forgot my front porch errand entirely and hauled the box inside, ripped it open, eager, looking first for a note.
But the color hit my eye like a rainbow promise. And so apt that figure, my long-held symbol of that relationship of storm and raintears and sun and thunder rumbles that God’s love and grace nonetheless streamed through.
The older son, the one Dad dubbed “Radar,” for how well he psyched out us others, sometimes anticipating thoughts and desires near the point of uncanny… Could he have detected, even from that distance, the yawning need for such gift, for right then?
He might have, this transplanted wild-grown child watered by the grace of God, now matured into the wonder of man- and fatherhood that could knock you flat with surprise blooms like this gift, this good gift, like he is.
Then next morning, came the best gift I could get for that moment:
…the card to encourage a doubtful mother, the book to encourage her soul to grow. He spoke uncertainty, not knowing its author or all its written content. But its title and direction and the giving said everything that mattered: “I get it. I understand where you’re aiming and know it’s a trek. I hope this is manna for the journey.”
I think it is.
I know the thought behind it is. And this mate of my soul behind the thought, that’s the real gift.
And then, come late afternoon, the best gift for that hour in time: the long phone call, and somewhere near the end, “Mom, take a look at my Twitter. You’re in there.”
(shown on the previous post, but shown here again for those who won’t have gone there…)
Yes, we do go way back, over rocky roads leading to the hodge-podge family, and then beyond. Two against the world in days shortly after that shot. But not alone. Two with a Third, mightier than the world. Reminder of the way He blessed and held and guided us through, the wonders He did, the cord of three strands He made with us… Gift after wondrous gift.
The real earthly gift in the picture was the child, the real gift of the photo posting and phone call was the wonder of the man and father he’s become.
And the great huge gift in all of these things in the past two days: the God Who’s Giver of all good things.
Sometimes you get gifts that outshine others. For me, they contain three things:
~something of the person him/herself, in the thought, in the medium of giving
~some obvious evidence of how the giver knows your heart
~something expressive of the bond between you.
… because the most real and best gift is the giver himself.
And then, the most blessed extra bonus thrown in would be the clear God-incidence of the timing.
Because then we get to see the real Giver behind it all.
What an incredible weekend! Three perfect gifts a row. Just what I needed (and more), just when I really needed it!Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights… James 1:17
8 thoughts on “Good Gifts, and What Makes them Good”
All such sweet and thoughtful gifts to warm a mother’s heart. Our children also sent gifts each in their own way and each cherished and appreciated.
Yes, Hazel. That is so pleasant. This was one of the best Mother’s Day weekends I can remember. And maybe the year I needed it most. (God provides that way, doesn’t He?)
What a blessing to have the family our Father knew you and all of us would need. The extra senses that “Radar” was born with wasn’t by chance… but of course you knew that… The gift is truly the giver… Words of wisdom to ponder and appreciate.
So amazing how God uses people to give us exactly what we need in a given moment! How incredible and miraculous a blessing! Thank you so much for sharing, friend!
Hey, Mary! So good to hear from you! I figured you’ve been buried in books and papers. Guess I better get counting some reasons… !
Blessings to you!
Thanks, Floyd. Sometimes we wonder what God is doing… and then, wow, it all comes together and we see.
Sometimes I wonder how my children ever made it. I love your three-stranded cord. That’s how! What a gift your son!
Dawn, me, too, as to mine! I already said it in some comment elsewhere, but will say it again here: My oft repeated prayer was “Lord, please let them grow up all right despite me!” It was grace, grace, no doubt about it!
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