J. gave me a gift: a clear plastic bottle, 1.5 liters, cut off just below the neck, empty of its original beverage and now filled with… dirt. Dried out dirt, nothing else in it, save only a little twig, shoved into the dirt.
What kind of gift is this? It’s ugly, I don’t really want it. I receive it, a bit confused. But he insists, “It’s for you! Look, I found it, I put this stick in it, I made it for you.” I’m sure he found it in the yard, cast off from some previous school project. I suppose that at some time it had something growing in it but now it’s just a useless, cut-off soda bottle, filled with hard dirt.
I receive it and don’t know where to put it so it goes on the kitchen counter and then later, after a day or two, I sneak it outside and hide it behind a fence post. But he finds it and brings it back to me and says, “Look, this was outside. I brought it for you; it’s yours.” So, resigned to the fact of my gift, my unwanted gift, my not-sure-what-to-do-with-it gift, I set it up in the windowsill on the other side of the sink. There, J. can see it, and I can see it but it won’t be too obvious. A month goes by and the bottle of dirt stays there. I don’t pay it much attention, I don’t do anything to it; still I don’t really want it. Until one day, I see that a thin blade of grass has emerged, so I sprinkle a few drops of water on it. Then a week or so later something else comes up. So I continue to water it and see what will happen.
The result? It is a beautiful little plant, with heart-shaped leaves, bright green on the upperside and purple on the underside: a shamrock. And I am just astounded that from this worthless gift -- this found nothingness that I did not want and tried to cast off but wasn’t allowed to, that was given in love – something can grow from that. Something beautiful can grow from it, something I do want, even though I could not conceive of it when the gift was given. I showed him the plant, and I said, “Look what grew!” He smiled. “Look at the leaves, they’re shaped like hearts because you gave it to me in love.” He nodded and grinned and kept playing Legos.
The shamrock is still there and it’s growing, and recently it sent up a long shoot with several buds. Soon it will have little lavender blossoms. When something is done in love, even when there seems to be no hope, something good can come out of it, something beautiful can grow out of that act. It’s still in the ugly old coke bottle. Part of me wants to replant it, but part of me likes keeping it in that, to remember. There is a song by a group called Gungor that says, “You make beautiful things out of the dust, You make beautiful things out of us.” And Bethany Dillon sings, “Only You can see the good in broken things.” I’m so glad that J. didn’t let me cast it off, that God didn’t let it go unnoticed out there in the yard, but that I was forced to continue with this ugly, difficult, unwanted thing, and learn how it could grow into something beautiful where I didn’t expect anything good.
That’s what I hope for in life, and in these kids and their families. Formando Vidas exists to honor God through regenerating at-risk children, their families, and their future generations. Sometimes these kids come to us like an undesirable, dirt-filled, broken piece of trash. But they come to us as a gift. And sometimes we can’t appreciate the gift, but God is a giver who knows the seeds that are buried that we can’t even imagine. And he’s the one who makes things grow. He’s just inviting us to see the process and sprinkle drops of love, order, and hope into their parched lives.
What kind of gift is this? It’s ugly, I don’t really want it. I receive it, a bit confused. But he insists, “It’s for you! Look, I found it, I put this stick in it, I made it for you.” I’m sure he found it in the yard, cast off from some previous school project. I suppose that at some time it had something growing in it but now it’s just a useless, cut-off soda bottle, filled with hard dirt.
I receive it and don’t know where to put it so it goes on the kitchen counter and then later, after a day or two, I sneak it outside and hide it behind a fence post. But he finds it and brings it back to me and says, “Look, this was outside. I brought it for you; it’s yours.” So, resigned to the fact of my gift, my unwanted gift, my not-sure-what-to-do-with-it gift, I set it up in the windowsill on the other side of the sink. There, J. can see it, and I can see it but it won’t be too obvious. A month goes by and the bottle of dirt stays there. I don’t pay it much attention, I don’t do anything to it; still I don’t really want it. Until one day, I see that a thin blade of grass has emerged, so I sprinkle a few drops of water on it. Then a week or so later something else comes up. So I continue to water it and see what will happen.
The result? It is a beautiful little plant, with heart-shaped leaves, bright green on the upperside and purple on the underside: a shamrock. And I am just astounded that from this worthless gift -- this found nothingness that I did not want and tried to cast off but wasn’t allowed to, that was given in love – something can grow from that. Something beautiful can grow from it, something I do want, even though I could not conceive of it when the gift was given. I showed him the plant, and I said, “Look what grew!” He smiled. “Look at the leaves, they’re shaped like hearts because you gave it to me in love.” He nodded and grinned and kept playing Legos.
The shamrock is still there and it’s growing, and recently it sent up a long shoot with several buds. Soon it will have little lavender blossoms. When something is done in love, even when there seems to be no hope, something good can come out of it, something beautiful can grow out of that act. It’s still in the ugly old coke bottle. Part of me wants to replant it, but part of me likes keeping it in that, to remember. There is a song by a group called Gungor that says, “You make beautiful things out of the dust, You make beautiful things out of us.” And Bethany Dillon sings, “Only You can see the good in broken things.” I’m so glad that J. didn’t let me cast it off, that God didn’t let it go unnoticed out there in the yard, but that I was forced to continue with this ugly, difficult, unwanted thing, and learn how it could grow into something beautiful where I didn’t expect anything good.
That’s what I hope for in life, and in these kids and their families. Formando Vidas exists to honor God through regenerating at-risk children, their families, and their future generations. Sometimes these kids come to us like an undesirable, dirt-filled, broken piece of trash. But they come to us as a gift. And sometimes we can’t appreciate the gift, but God is a giver who knows the seeds that are buried that we can’t even imagine. And he’s the one who makes things grow. He’s just inviting us to see the process and sprinkle drops of love, order, and hope into their parched lives.
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:19)
3 comments:
That made me tear up. Thanks for a really tangible reminder that God transforms, even things we think are worthless.
amen!
amen!
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