I WAS in bed on the morning of my birthday. It was very early and I was half asleep and half-awake when I heard little feet approaching my bedside, and a gentle voice, saying, “I am bringing you a birthday present. I made it all by myself!”
I felt the little fingers put a tiny package into my hand, but sleep overcame me. In about an hour I awoke, finding something in my hand, and then it all came back to me, and I understood that my dear little girl had got up early, on this cold January morning, to show me her affection, having done what was in her power for me.
I opened the small parcel, and was, indeed, surprised when I saw the contents. It was a birthday present, such as had never seen before. As I looked at it, I did not know whether to cry or laugh, I was so deeply touched. My little darling’s present was simply a pincushion made from the mended heel of an old stocking she had taken from the rag bag. The stitches she had put in were long and irregular, and on the edges were knots and long threads—the whole thing was the most original piece of work any one had ever seen.
How do you suppose I received it? Did I tell my little girl it was useless? No! nor did I say, “It seems to me you might have put in smaller stitches,” nor, “Why did you not cut the ends of thread off before bringing it to me?” No, indeed! What touched me so deeply was that my child had done it for me. She had done her very best, and instead of throwing it aside as worthless, I kept it as a precious treasure, and today I would not exchange it for its weight in gold. It was a proof of my child’s love.
And, now, dear ones, who believe in Jesus, what lesson can we learn from this little account? Are not we the objects of the Father’s love? Does He look upon our little efforts to serve Him with less tenderness than I looked upon my child’s work? No, indeed! The love of God is far, far greater than mine for my little girl. We cannot compare His love, for He gave His only Son for us, and now that we are His children, He takes notice of every little effort on our part to please Him. Our work may be very poor, like the long and irregular stitches, the knots and the ends not cut off, yet we may have tried to please Jesus— “We love Him, because He first loved us,” and in His tenderness and love, He does not repulse us, nor send us away, saying, “I cannot accept it, because it is not perfect;” but He takes account of the smallest service done for Him, even a cup of cold water given in His name.
The word of God tells us that people look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart, so when He sees that we are really trying to please Him, it is that which gives Him joy, and we must remember that we need to ask Him each day for strength to walk pleasing to Him.
We have a loving Father, One who appreciates any little act done for Him, much more than I did my little Marguerite’s pincushion.
ML 02/07/1909