Lately, I’ve become relentless regarding the letting go of my physical possessions.\u00a0 For two weeks in a row now, I’ve packed my vehicle with as many items as I could and then headed to a community thrift store at a church not too far away from my home.\u00a0 If something’s not currently being used and has little potential for near-future use, I’m simply letting it go, with one most noteworthy exception–an old, tattered wicker basket that has sat (for decades ) and will continue to sit in a special place in my house.<\/p>\n
Like most things, what makes this basket significant is the story behind it, the tender story of a most awkward young girl.\u00a0 I met her twenty-three years ago when I was a college senior doing my student teaching in a middle school Spanish class.\u00a0 She was tall, lanky really, rather clumsy and wore those small round Harry Potter-like glasses (which were not yet cool).\u00a0 And since she did not seem very expressive, I had sort of assumed that she didn’t care all that much for me\/my teaching or Spanish.\u00a0 It seemed that she was almost always checked out of class and dreaming of something far more interesting than the reality around her.\u00a0 For this reason, I was shocked when she came up to me with a good-bye gift the last day of my student teaching; and it was one of the very first gifts I ever remember getting as a teacher.<\/p>\n
When I opened her gift, the mouth of my boss (her “real” teacher) fell wide open and she then shook her head disappointedly and embarrassingly.\u00a0 The gift was a basket that looked rather like it had seen its better days, though one could tell by its delicate ribbons that it had once been rather lovely.\u00a0 My young student then began to look a little more undone than usual and I wondered if she had accurately read the expression on the veteran teacher’s face.\u00a0 Thus, I very quickly praised her gift, telling her how much it meant to me and assuring her that I would not forget her and her thoughtfulness for a long, long time.<\/p>\n
I told that young girl the truth that day because she is the one student whom I still remember the most, all thanks to that basket.\u00a0 While I don’t know the story behind its origin, I do know why I’ve kept it all these years.\u00a0 It’s not for my student’s sake but for my God’s.\u00a0 You see, I’ve come to realize, as I’ve failed repeatedly over the years to do the thing that I feel sure would most please him, that the quality of my gifts will never measure up to his standard; he, however, through his Christ loves me just the same, and I believe he appreciates the very same thing that I did all those years ago when a girl handed me a worn-out basket–I knew she had thought of me.\u00a0 And I believe it’s meaningful to God when we think of him.<\/p>\n
It’s really good for me to be reminded of this today, to be reminded of God’s ultimate gift–unending grace through his Christ.\u00a0 Nineteen years ago on this very day my dear father was found dead, and the circumstances of his death were indeed “questionable.”\u00a0 And though I struggled to feel close to God for many years after my dad’s death, and still struggle at times, I was gently reminded of God’s true nature as I boxed up my house this week and stumbled across a little basket from the past.\u00a0 Our God is most certainly a God of grace–and his stamp, his signature, is all around us and in us if only we would believe enough to see him there.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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