“Dear friend, God may send you some valuable gifts wrapped in unattractive paper.” — from Streams in the Desert

We moved on Monday. It’s yet to become home to us. We’ve spent every night there since Monday. So, I say “moved” only to indicate that all the stuff that was once at our house in Irvine has made its way to our new house in Mission Viejo. It’s all there. All of it. So much of it.

In surveying all the things that wound up in a pile in our garage — a pile reminiscent of a hamster habitat complete with wrong turns and hidden dangers — we started wondering why we we boxed, taped, and moved so many broken, unusable, and unsalvageable things to a new house. Tomorrow a new dumpster (our third one) will arrive… because we have MORE stuff that must be thrown away.

In one dusty box that I nearly tossed immediately into the dumpster (following the pattern of countless other boxes before it) I paused to look inside. In it was a relic of a bygone era: a $50 travelers’ check. Granted, I’m not sure many places would even know what to do with one. But, I have it. I almost threw it away despite its value.

Where no value was explicitly clear, there was something of value within a dusty and worn exterior. This is what mothers do. It is what God does. They see what others refuse to see. They see that there is something worthy to be loved — even if misunderstood by everyone else. To be loved for a value far greater than whatever worn out, endlessly polished, or exhausted shell in which we live, is what every heart desires. It’s what every heart needs.

So, to every mom who demonstrated to us a tiny slice of this kind of love, thank you. You see us as we are and love us all the more. This weekend we’ll honor moms, mother figures, and moms-yet-to-be. Join us as Doug Fields teaches and the patio is full of photo ops, chocolate fountains, and card-making stations. Bring your mom and any mom-type friends of yours. It’s going to be beautiful.

See you Mother’s Day,
Jeff