hopeful living – EAST WILLOW PLACE

I felt quiet and sad. I was nine, and my only close friend was moving far away. Because I moved so much as a child, it was hard to make close friends. And by “moved” I mean different hemisphere moves, not different states or cities.

It didn’t help that I was shy, awkward, and mostly lonely. So I was almost pathetically grateful anytime another kid was friendly to me and showed kindness.

This friend had been especially sweet, and I wanted to give her a goodbye present to show her how much I cared about her – one that she could keep to remember me by.

Asking my dad to purchase a gift was out of the question: money was always tight and he would inevitably say the same thing he always did: “Make something yourself!”

I found the idea in a book of creating a little bird in a nest, using a blown egg and a little piece of egg carton. I painstakingly went through each step by myself, poking a tiny hole in the top and bottom of the egg and blowing it out of the shell, then letting it dry. I painted the eggshell a lovely aqua blue, glued on a little paper beak and two soft black paper eyes, and made a little “nest” with a painted brown cup of an egg carton, carefully gluing the egg-chick in place.

I was utterly delighted with my special gift, and very proud of my handiwork – especially since I had done it all by myself. I excitedly envisioned my friend’s joy on receiving her present.

The last day I would see my friend was on Sunday at church. That morning my dad, siblings and I all rushed out to the car to drive to church, running a few minutes late. I had grabbed the little chick and the card I had made, and placed them carefully inside the car next to my seat. Then, as I got in, I unthinkingly put my hand down to fasten the seat belt – and smashed the chick.

I was too stunned to cry, and too grief stricken to speak.

There was no point in crying. There was nothing to say.

We were already late for church, my friend was moving away the very next day, and there was no time to create anything new for her. All my hard work and loving effort was gone, and I had nothing tangible to show for it except crushed fragments of a lovely aqua blue. And it was my fault.

I have felt like that little nine year old often throughout my life. (Have you?)

I have an idea or a hope of how something I do will turn out, especially since as a believer I know that what I carry out each day is supposed to be to the glory of God.

But then, often inadvertently, I feel like I clumsily end up ruining it somehow. The gift that I had wanted to give to God of my day or my effort ends up so much less than I had hoped: a broken, shattered version of what I had envisioned. Things sometimes just end up sort of smashed and irreversibly damaged.

This is where it takes sheer stubbornness to hold on to what I know is true: God sees my heart, and He knows my intentions and yearnings. Even in the brokenness, He sees the love that I hold in my heart for Him when I offer what I have as a worship to Him. And therefore what I do has value and meaning to Him when I work out of a desire to honor Him with it.

What you do, how you faithfully keep going with your work and how you live your days – it matters.

When we deliberately choose to see our lives as something we offer up to God, even in its broken imperfection, He takes our love-gift and gauges it with a metric of grace.

As one of my favorite song lyrics say,

“So take my broken offering and make it whole/ And set my feet upon the road that leads me home/ Let me walk as one fixed upon the goal / Even though I’ve got a thousand miles to go.”

_{(Caedmon’s Call, “Thousand Miles”, Back Home, Essential Records. 2003)}

Even in those moments when all we think we hold is a crushed little egg-chick, He sees the time, care, intent, and the love that we truly offer.

“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.”
Galatians 6:9, NLT

– Maria

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One of my favorite short animated films is “Piper”, from Pixar Films. It tells the story of a sandpiper chick urged by its mother to leave its safe warm sandy nest and begin digging for clams with the rest of the flock down by the shore.

At first, the reluctant chick assumes its mother will still feed it. When the mother instead shows the chick to search for clams in the wet sand, the chick looks askance, but hesitatingly tries – without success.

Completely oblivious to its surroundings, the chick suddenly realizes that the rest of the flock have retreated… and by itself, is knocked over by a wave of cold seawater.

Shivering, sodden, scared, the chick huddles back in its nest, when the mother gently encourages it to come out and try again. Its growling belly shows the growing need to find food.

This time, almost incapacitated by fear and dread, the chick cowers higher on the shore – when it meets a little hermit crab stolidly making its way down to the water.

Following, curious but still cautious, the chick watches as the crab spies a wave coming. Instead of running, it simply burrows down to create a safe nook to hide from the sweep of the water. Unable to escape in time from the wave, the chick quickly copies the crab’s methods, digging itself down into the wet sand just as the wave rushes over the pair, engulfing them both.

The chick hunkers underwater, eyes closed tight, trying to survive till the water recedes. Unexpectedly, the crab taps on the sandpiper’s beak. The chick opens its eyes and to the piper’s astonished gaze, the sandy floor under the water is rich with many clams, each having risen to the surface. As the wave washes back out, the clams begin to retreat below the surface again, digging down deeper, hidden once more.

This little underwater glimpse is electrifying to the sandpiper chick – and the change is extraordinary!

Gone is the little cowering, shivering, fearful chick who hides in the safety and warmth of its nest and is fed by someone else. Suddenly, the chick is energized, knowing where to find the largest clams! Running and piping with delight, it even brings an enormous clam to its mother, so large that several other sandpipers join the feast.

The little piper is still soaking wet. It is still being hit by incessant, cold waves. But now the piper is joyful, revitalized, and is no longer hungry. Instead of avoiding the waves, it realizes that they are rich opportunities for nourishment.

I can relate so well to that little sandpiper. I too often long to stay in the safety and comfort of a warm, sunny nest. I am perfectly content to avoid the cold of suffering and challenges – even while I grow hungry.

Yet when God, like a loving mama sandpiper, nudges me out of my comfort zone and I somewhat uncertainly (and often reluctantly) follow Him down to the shore, I still often expect to be completely coddled, expecting warmth, ease, and safety…

Then when frustrations, disappointments, and difficulties smack me down like chilling salt waves, I too want to give up and run far, far away, back to the shelter of the dry nest and comfortably starve.

Yet, God keeps encouraging me to start living as I was meant to be, growing in maturity and wisdom, learning how to find and consume what is most nourishing to my soul – and it’s down by the water’s edge, not up in the barren nest.

Then, in a time of apparent hardship or difficulty, completely certain that I am unable to breathe or survive in the suffocating cold flooding my senses, He also gently helps me to open my eyes in the middle of it… and reveals a feast of strength and plenty that wouldn’t otherwise be accessible to me unless I was there under the water.

In the time of hard there is nourishment. In the experiences of difficulty there is fulfillment, and in the times of loss God provides for your heart. He knows what is best for us, and He knows what we need. In His care, “even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.” (Psalm 65:11, NLT)

In our experiences that knock us over and threaten to overwhelm, if we open our eyes to Him in trust instead of fear, we will discover an entirely new strength – and even though we might still be outwardly wet, cold, bedraggled, and look a little crazy, we will have deep joy and full hearts, with plenty to share for others.

A person who is full refuses honey, but even bitter food tastes sweet to the hungry.
Proverbs 27:7, NLT

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Tag: hopeful living

Broken & Beautiful: How to Hold Hope in the Imperfection

When we deliberately choose to see our lives as something we offer up to God, even in its broken imperfection, He takes our love-gift and gauges it with a metric of grace.

Hungry? A Hidden Surprise Feast for Your Heart

In the time of hard there is nourishment. In the experiences of difficulty there is fulfillment, and in the times of loss God provides for your heart. He knows what is best for us, and He knows what we need. In His care, “even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.” (Psalm 65:11, NLT)