Sometimes my desire to bring even greater things has been a hindrance to my giving everything, to my giving the little things, perhaps even the silly things. I call them silly things and wonder why my mom does not throw them out. Yet I enjoy coming home to a small museum of my love for my mother.

I suspect that somewhere God has collected all our meager gifts, all our prayers of frustration or calls in times of need. He has probably even recorded what little time we give to Him in prayer, in reading scripture, or in worship. He has done so not to judge us but to remember the gifts, even the meager gifts, of his children. I suspect that even were we Picassos or Michelangelos He would still prefer the innocent and unpretentious offerings of our loving hearts over the mature creations we design to impress Him. Great are the small things. Great are the silly things.

As His children we must offer up our silly things, at least the things we believe are silly.  We dare not searched for the most polished piece or the most expensive piece. We cannot wait until all edits are through. We cannot More >