So we are told in Ephesians 4:32.
Do you remember getting your memory verse each week in Sunday School?
Last week my maternal grandfather celebrated his 86th birthday. So on Sunday, we all gathered together to celebrate both Father's Day and his birthday. I've always known him as Pappy. He is also known as Daddy, Howard, John Howard, Mr. Netherton and to his friends, Duck. He has always called me Rabbit. Always and still I am Rabbit to Duck. I'm the only other one in the family with an animal name and it has always made me feel special.
He has always made me feel special. The first grandchild (and ONLY grandchild for a very long time - my Mom, his daughter, started early) I received a fair amount of his time and attention. My favorites memories revolve around watching Hee Haw together, him teaching me to ride horses or even just going for a "drive." I love that man.
When my Granny passed away in 1999 we helped him clean out their house in town to prepare it for sale. Other relatives greedily (I thought) clamored to claim her "things." She never really owned much that was too valuable. There wasn't much of hers that I wanted anyway. I just wanted HER back. He kept aside things he knew I would appreciate. We've always had a kinship that way. Aunts and cousins took the china, furniture, jewelry. But my Pappy saved for me trinkets he would give to me over the years. One Sunday after church he called me to the back room and slipped her scissors into my hand. He knows I love to sew, a gift she gave to me. No one else would have wanted her scissors. But I think of her each time I use them to cut fabric, and I remember her teaching me to use the good scissors only on fabric. To keep them sharp. I'll never forget!
Last summer he bestowed to me the only known baby picture of her. A tiny sepia photo of a fat, happy baby in a meadow. Hard to believe that sweet face is my Granny so many years ago! He's just good with gifts that way.
We of course arrived Sunday with gifts for the Birthday Boy. He opened and enjoyed them all. Books, shirts, framed photos. But before I left, he called me over and handed me an envelope. In it was a card from a Sunday School class long ago. October 1928 to be exact. His memory verse. My Pappy's memory verse from when he was only six years old.
Eph 4:32. Be ye kind to one another.
He got an A- for attendance, and a B+ for his lesson! On it is a sweet picture of a snow covered church and a spring of holly in the corner. (it was the last quarter after all, Christmas time was near!) He'll never know, although I think he suspects, how much I love these tiny gifts he shares with me. This small faded card, torn on the edges, would have almost surely been missed in a pile of papers. I'm so thankful that he was the one to give it to me. He's just good with gifts that way.
It isn't the monetary value of a gift. It isn't the store it came from. It is the heart behind it.
On the back of the card there is a short story about giving. And in closing it reads, "Our heavenly Father gives us all the good gifts we have. Paul told all the people he preached to that God wanted us to share our gifts with others. And it made Paul's heart glad to see the Christians sharing with each other. It makes God glad, too, when we share with each other." He's just good with gifts that way.
Don't hesitate to share YOUR gifts with others. You never know how God will use even the smallest gesture to bless someone's life. He's just good with gifts that way.
