You, my son, are precious. Yellow rain boots and mismatched clothes, you dig holes in the yard and try to plant blueberry bushes by encasing the soft fruit in hard dirt.
I see your eyes—filled with anticipation and excitement. You with that fire faith believe the blueberry bush will sprout forth, and you’ll be able to pick delicious berries for dessert tomorrow.
There’s something about the faith of a child that humbles the hearts of adults.
I pray you will never lose that confidence. In a world that beats us down daily, I pray you hold on to that hope (a great treasure!) enveloped in that jar of clay. You must not let the world change you.
May you always see the sunshine and think of the flowers that will fold open and welcome its light. May you always see the rain and envision dancing through it singing songs of springtime. May you always see that murky lake and envision reeling in the biggest fish from its depths.
I want you to remember and digest these promises . . . .
Nothing is impossible with God and all things work together for good for those who love Him.
Dark times will come. Those of us who have lived many trips around the sun know that all too well.
I pray you, sweet boy, embrace these solemn times but walk forward knowing you have a choice to believe this world’s logic that’s full of lies or to rejoice in the uncertain times knowing God will see you through it.
God can make blueberry bushes out of bruised fruit. Always.