Boxes

Amazing, isn't it? You spend a fortune on the toddler play station to end all toddler play stations. It encourages basic reading skills (in English, Spanish and Portuguese), helps hone fine motor skills, teaches basic chemistry principles, develops social and political awareness and teaches toddlers how to recognize the subtle nuances of Beethoven. All that and you still find on Christmas morning that your toddler gets a much bigger kick out of the big box it came in. Isn't it hilarious that the empty box can mean more to a kid than the budget-breaking gift we thought he just had to have?

As strange as it may sound, sometimes the best gift we can give our Heavenly Father is our emptiness; like the box without the extravagant toy.

I was so blessed this week when I read a poem written by my sixteen-year-old daughter, Kaley. I knew I had to share it with my DW friends. What a sweet reminder it was to me that when we present our emptiness to our King, he fills us with eternal worth. All praise to our King!

The Gift
by Kaley Faith Rhea

The innocence of early morning sunlight
Reflects in the eyes of the young child
His eyes, deeper somehow than an uncaring world could fathom
His eyes, focused solely on his King

The world, so busy in its preparation, cannot stand still for a moment
Cannot stand still to marvel at the One for whom they prepare
His feet, stepping timidly toward the One he so admires
His feet, tip-toeing past the throngs of rushing people

"The King is coming! The King is coming!" Yet still they cannot see
The Person they long to recognize stands but few yards away
His hands, cradling a precious gift, unwrapped and unadorned
His hands, reach out to tug the sleeve of the One he holds the highest

But then those hands are pulled away by the people of the world
Angry faces and scalding glares, "You must work to earn your way"
His tears, hot and salty, flow down the young boy's face
His tears, each carrying shame and hurt, for he can see his King no more

A strong hand brings comfort as it rests upon his head
And then the boy is turned into a seldom-felt embrace
His face, dirty and tear-stained, buries itself in a broad shoulder
His face, feeling the kiss of soft velvet, looks up in shock and awe

The King looked down at him and smiled, a smile that lit the sky
And gently asked just what it was the boy was crying for
His words, halting and unsteady, told of the gift he'd meant to give
His words, full of great respect, made the King's eyes mist a bit

"Don't mind the others," the King said sadly, "They're blind to what is real
"Spending time getting themselves ready, they forget to spend time with Me"
His gift, held out readily, a small, plain, wooden box
His gift, when opened revealed nothing, only emptiness inside

"If I tried to fill this box," the child explained with care, "It would have no worth at all
"But if you were to fill it with anything you have, it would be worth the world and more"
His love, shown by his gift, words, face, tears, hands, feet, and eyes, brought music to the scene
His love, a joyful melody to the King, the only gift for which He'd asked

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Rhonda Rhea writes for dozens of Christian publications and speaks at conferences and events across the country. You can find her newest books, "Soup for the Soul-Tastes Just Like Chicken", and "Amusing Grace", at your local Christian bookstore. "Who Put the Cat in the Fridge-Serving Up Hope and Hilarity Family Style", will be available in March. Rhonda's husband, Richie Rhea, is a pastor in Troy, Missouri. You can reach them through her Web site at: www.rhondarhea.net.