The Forgotten Giver
My eyes were weary. It was an early morning flight, and I was heading down the freeway on the way to the airport. Then it happened. I crested a hill, and there spread before me was a beautiful sunrise.
It was one of those sunrises where the colors of purple and orange are muffled by a thousand puffy clouds along the horizon. All I could do was marvel, and say, “Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to see.” My busy world was interrupted by seeing—really seeing.
Funny what happens when you really begin to see. Even at the airport, I noticed the little boy with the curious eyes still clinging to his father’s hand. The cashier was all business, and the guy across from me was caught up in his iPhone. I could smile at them all and give them a word of greeting—because I was seeing that morning.
Like the sunrise, each of them was part of God’s creation. They were given to me for that day. People, not in my way, but people that God was putting in my path to be reminders of Him. But likewise, I realized that God was giving me to them—to be a reminder of Him.
Thank you, Lord, for reminding me of your kind and giving nature. Forgive me for how often I forget that you are daily giving. Don’t let me allow you to be The Forgotten Giver.
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Published November 12, 2010
Topics: A Life of Faith