Skip to main content

Trouble is Part of the Gift

I heard a story about a boy who gave a missionary a present as she was leaving his village. It was a seashell and she asked where he got it as the village was a hundred miles away from the sea. He said he'd walked to the seashore to get it for her.
She asked why he would go to that kind of trouble. He answered that the trouble was part of the gift.
Thinking back over the gifts I've given over the years and the ones I've received, I realize that the ones that were given with some "trouble" were the ones that meant the most - and they were the least expensive. Among my most treasured gifts are a used book given to me by a friend by a favorite author from a library sale, a rock from my grandson, a seashell from my daughter, a feather from another granddaughter, and a beloved but worn bookmark from a another friend.
Next time you give a gift don't try to give the most expensive gift. Give the one that takes a bit of trouble.
God bless!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

ODE TO OLD OR I SHALL WEAR PURPLE.....

Ode to Old
When I am old- Really really old- And cannot see -
Red balls of rouge- Riding- High on my cheeks,
Black lines- Arching- Over my eyes, 
Gravy stains covering- Yellow flowers- On my good blue dress.
When I am old- And cannot see - Will you please do-  My grooming for me?

by: Barbara A. Whittington











My Favorite Essay by Gladys Taber

BUTTERNUT WISDOM

From an essay by Gladys Taber
Family Circle  - September 1982

    I sat in the sun the other day while the dogs dug up the lawn and thought about work. I wasn’t working. I was just thinking about it. I have found that when I cannot possibly accomplish everything I am supposed to and feel an unbearable pressure---as all homemakers must---if I just stop, life goes better.
    I get a good book, make some spiced tea and sit down on my own corner of the sofa or in my favorite lawn chair. I let life settle in around me, and that is the only way I can express it. After 20 minutes or half an hour, I go back to the mechanics of living.  AND at days end I am just as far along as if I had not stopped to think.

Another of her thoughts: time for thinking is a gift one can give only to one’s self.


Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have over the years. When I've had it with my life some days -  I have only to sit down with a glass of sweet tea and think of this essay an…

The Dreaded School Pictures

This year when my children brought home their school pictures, I cringed. These kids can leave home looking cherubic, but the minute they pose for that school photographer they are transposed into unrecognizable beings. My middle daughter brought home pictures bearing her name and room number that couldn't have been my offspring. Nor a distant relative.
I had worked for hours on this child. Her hair was parted in the middle and drawn into a cute little ponytail over each ear. Even though she is at an awkward age, she looked adorable when she went out that door. Her missing front teeth only added to her charm. The kid in the picture has her mouth open wide displaying ugly dark gaps. Her one visible ponytail is lopsided, her part is uneven, and her bangs look like they were cut with pinking shears. I know this isn't my child because I always give my children a good haircut before they have their pictures taken. The only thing vaguely familiar is the sweater the child has on. My dau…