Last night before I went to bed, Lord,
I was hoping, trusting and praying
you're very much like a wonderful mom or dad,
a grandma or grandpa,
who smiles and gushes and oohs and ahs
over a simple gift a child brings
to drop into their lap...
Children do this all the time:
they find some little shiny trinket
or with stubs of crayons scribble on a scrap of paper
and come running to hand such a prize, such a gift
to someone they want to please...
That's me, Lord!
I've got plenty of trinkets and scribbles
to offer you and I hope you like them
- not because they're beautiful -
but just because they come from me...
Isn't that why moms, dads and grandparents
love what their child drops in their laps:
simply for love of the giver?
Of course I'm not a child, Lord,
I'm a grown-up!
Well, at least I try to be...
But sometimes I'm still a child
and sometimes I'm really childish,
- but sometimes (no, not often enough)
I am who I am:
I am who you made me to be...
I want to offer you gifts from who I am, Lord,
I want to give you what I have right now:
not what I've lost and wish I still had,
not what I hope to find but haven't,
but only what I have right now...
I want to offer you the heart of me,
who I am, today...
And what I have this day's unfinished, Lord:
incomplete and rough-edged,
not as pretty or neat as I wish it were...
But it is what I have,
it's all I have
and it's what I offer you...
As I lift my gift to you, Lord,
I see that in places it's falling apart
and the patches on old mistakes are showing
- just in the places I wish they didn't show...
But as I stand before your giant lap today
I believe there's a place
for what I have to offer you...
And when I look up into your face,
I'm pretty sure I see you smiling at me
and marveling at my simple gift
as a wonderful mom or dad,
as a loving gram or gramps
would smile upon their child...
And for that I'm very grateful, Lord,
so very, very grateful...
Help me see the beauty you see
in the simple gift I offer...
Help me look beyond its unfinished edges
to see the future you have in store...
Help me accept what's falling apart, Lord,
and lift it to your mending hand...
Help me learn to love all the patches
as the places where you have healed me...
Help me see it's the giver you love,
that my simple gift is but the token
bringing us together...
Accept me, Lord,
and the gift I bring:
it's what I have,
it's all I have,
it's what I offer you...
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