Blog Archives - Grace Drops

Unfolding the Rose

10/30/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A young, new priest was walking with an older, more seasoned priest in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was asking the older priest for some advice. The older priest walked up to a rose bush and handed the young priest a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any of the petals.

The young priest looked in disbelief at the older priest and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older priest, he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do. Noticing the young priest's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older priest began to recite the following poem:

            It is only a tiny rosebud
            A flower of God's design;
            But I cannot unfold the petals
            With these clumsy hands of mine.
            The secret of unfolding flowers
            Is not known to such as I.

            GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
            Then, in my hands, they die.
            If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
            The flower of God's design,
            Then how can I have the wisdom
            To unfold this life of mine?

            So, I'll trust in Him for leading
            Each moment of my day.
            I will look to Him for His guidance
            Each step of the Pilgrim's way

            The pathway that lies before me
            Only my Heavenly Father knows.
            I'll trust him to unfold the moments,
            Just as He unfolds the rose.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Always Look on the Inside

10/21/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

I remember reading a story once about a man who was exploring some caves by the seashore. In one of the caves he found a canvas bag with a bunch of hardened clay balls. It was like someone had rolled up some clay and left them out in the sun to bake. They didn't look like much, but they intrigued the man so he took the bag out of the cave with him.
As he strolled along the beach, to pass the time, he would throw the clay balls one at a time out into the ocean as far as he could throw. He thought little about it until he dropped one of the balls and it cracked open on a rock. Inside was a beautiful, precious stone. Excited, the man started breaking open the remaining clay balls. Each contained a
similar treasure.

He found thousands of dollars worth of jewels in the 20 or so clay balls he had left, then it struck him. He had been on the beach a long time. He had thrown maybe 50 or 60 of the clay balls with their hidden treasure into the ocean waves. Instead of thousands of dollars in treasure, he could have had tens of thousands, but he just threw it all away.

You know sometimes, it's like that with people. We look at someone, maybe even ourselves, and we see the external clay vessel. It doesn't look like much from the outside. It isn't always beautiful or sparkling, so we discount it; we see that person as less important than someone more beautiful or stylish or well known or wealthy. But we have not taken the time to find the treasure hidden inside that person. There is a treasure hidden in every one of us.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Lewis on Love

10/17/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

By now everyone has heard of C. S. Lewis. At one time he was known mostly in religious circles. A professor of literature at Oxford University in England, he was an avowed agnostic until his conversion to Christianity in the 1930’s. He wrote and spoke prolifically about the reasonableness of his faith all over Great Britain. He wrote a wonderful “science-fiction” trilogy, and the children’s books for which he is best known, The Chronicles of Narnia. With the recent release of “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” virtually everyone knows his name.

The problem this stuffy academician faced in the late 1950’s was that he fell in love with an admirer named Joy Davidman Gresham. He fell hard. Within a few short years, however, his new love died of cancer and his heart was broken. The movie “Shadowlands” dealt with this part of his life story. His journey of grief was intimately recorded in A Grief Observed.

Out of this experience Lewis made an observation about love. In his usual poignant style, he said:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and probably be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the coffin or casket of your selfishness. But in that casket -- safe, dark, motionless, airless -- it will change. It will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

The only place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is hell.

© 2006, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

New Pet

10/15/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A single guy decides life would be more fun if he had a pet. So he went to the pet store one Saturday and told the clerk that he wanted to buy an unusual pet. After considering numerous options, he finally bought a talking centipede, which came in a little white box.

He took the box with his new pet home, found a good spot for the box, and decided he would start off by taking his new pet to church with him the next day. Sunday morning, he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to church with me today? We will have a good time." But there was no answer from his new pet.

This bothered him a bit, since he was assured by the pet store that the centipede would talk once he got it home and it was comfortable with its surroundings. He waited a few minutes and then asked again, "How about going to church with me and receive blessings?"

But again, there was no answer from his new friend and pet. So he waited a few minutes more, contemplating the situation. He decided to ask it one more time, this time putting his face up against the centipede's box and shouting, "Hey, in there! Would you like to go to church with me and learn about the Lord!?"

YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS!

A little voice came out of the box . . .

I heard you the first time! I'm putting on my shoes.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Holland

10/11/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this:

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans... the Coliseum, Michelangelo’s David, the gondolas of Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!" you say. "What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life, I've dreamed of going to Italy!"

The stewardess replies, "There's been a change in the flight plan. We've landed in Holland and it is here you must stay."

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It is just a different place. So, you must go and buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. You will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It is just a different place. It is slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy, but after you have been there while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That is what I had planned."

The pain of that will never, ever, ever go away because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't go to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Author: Emily Pearl Kingsley.

Ode to a Grandma

10/6/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

One night a few weeks ago, with family and a few friends gathered around her, my mother peacefully went to sleep for the final time. During the last twenty-four hours there was not a moment without someone at her bedside. Songs were sung, passages of Scripture read, memories were shared, and prayers were offered to bring comfort to all.

During the time of preparation for a celebration of her life’s journey, my daughter, inspired by one of the stories that was read to her Grandmother, wrote this poem:

Once there was a Grandma.
and she loved her grandchildren.
And whenever they could, they would come to visit her
and they would run in her back yard to watch the train
and roll down her front yard into piles of leaves and
catch fireflies in the summer evenings.
They would eat her home cooked fried chicken, pound cake and strawberry jam.
And when they were tired, she would rub their backs and sing "Go Tell Aunt
Tabby."
And the children loved their grandmother . . . very much.
And Grandma was happy.

© 2006, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Can You Sleep When the Wind Blows?

10/3/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals.

Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. "Are you a good farm hand?" the farmer asked him.

"Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work. Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters.

He shook the little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!" The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows."

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens

were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

MORAL: When you're prepared, spiritually, mentally, and physically, you have nothing to fear. Can you sleep when the wind blows through your life? The hired hand in the story was able to sleep because he had secured the farm against the storm.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Why Is It So Hard To Let Go?

10/1/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.

"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?" Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. "A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.

On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere - Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?" "Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you." "Then give me your pearls." "Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess - the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite." "That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?" "Daddy, you know I love you." "Then give me your pearls." "Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper." "That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you" And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. "What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?" Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.

Life is often waiting for us to give up the cheap things so that we can be ready for the beautiful treasures. Are you holding onto things that you should let go? Are you holding on to relationships, habits and activities to which you have come so attached that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes it is so hard to see what is in the other hand.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).