The Little Marvelous Gifts

Lazing into a gorgeous afternoon, drinking in the cool shade's breeze that brings with it the raw green aroma of a grassy field, intellect tickled by a heavy C.S. Lewis read, and as the zephyr plays idly with my hair I let the buzzing of a bee distract me.

A creature so small, so carefully crafted, fluttering from flower to flower with all diligence, I am elated at another small joy of creation joining me. The sight of my buzzing companion in the blissful moments reminded me of a great truth thrust upon me mighty and worthy of all wonder and jubilee.

This truth was found not in the trifling of a Sunday afternoon, but in the thrashing waves tossing me amongst scheduling and assignments and course syllabi and rules and meetings and all that is the first week at a new University, a 12-hour's drive away from home.

I began my week not knowing how specifically God cares for us,
how the little earthly things do, in fact, matter to Him.
 I had it in my mind, locked in, that the only great gift I can really expect from God is the gift of grace that is parading through His Word. Indeed, it is the greatest gift,
but I learned it is not the only gift.

For He bestows gifts in the day, the gifts little and insignificant and having such a small amount of weight in the salvation of foreign countries or the feeding of the needy or theological revelations or the grandiose things.

No,
the things that matter to one young woman, one young woman a little bit homesick, a little bit uncomfortable, a little bit overwhelmed-- He is willing and able to be there and to love unconditionally there too.
 
I prayed a prayer like jumping into water for the chance it might give deep refreshment, like opening an unfamiliar door for the chance that it might be the best opening I've ever stumbled upon.
I took the chance at knowing just how radically specific His constant love could be

and here on this end of the week I can say His love reaches me in what seems trivial, in what is utterly earthly.

I celebrate with specific praise now that He provided me with friendly faces and fabulous time spent with newly  met sisters in Christ when I asked Him for a friend or two.

I celebrate His victory over my disordered thoughts creeping up slow, sneaking into this big life transition only to be decimated at the sight of my Mighty God. 

I celebrate His ability to let me focus on reading that Education textbook chapter that was particularly dull, yet with reluctance I admit, necessary.

I celebrate His care in allowing me to accomplish the long run I craved, with each footstep knowing there is power in the name of Jesus, from the glorious conquering of death, right down to the muscular energy to get up that challenging hill at the end of my run.

I celebrate the letter received from my Grandmother with a squeal of delight after praying for support from family, and a slow dwindling of the homesickness that stung at moments.

I saw that before I was belittling these me-specific gifts as too insignificant to praise at all in comparison to His spectacular sacrifice.

While these little praises indeed cower before the most praiseworthy gift He gave on a cross, I was denying His constant love in it's true nature-- always working, meeting me where I am with all my little desires and delivering sweetest salvation for each and every need of mine while I wait for Him, basking in the wild grace of knowing His promise of eternity while soaked in love.

So I will be drenched not only in utter gratitude, stretching out in praise for the ultimate gift of salvation, but I will smile, worship, and never underestimate the ways You work in my little, yet so deeply cared for life, day by day, here on earth.