by Kim Meeder
Because of our Lord’s great love for us, He has prepared a place where we can come out of the storms, heartache, and hardship of this world and into His all-consuming peace. It is not found in a box or in a cage. It is found only in His very presence, which knows no boundary at all.
11
THE GIFT
Extraordinary Favor
Often my life feels like a treasure chest. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t reflect on the incredible gifts I’ve been so honored to receive. My home is filled with cards, photographs, drawings, hand lotions, quilts, treats, jewelry, and outdoor gear—all evidence of the kindness and good wishes of others.
Their generosity and imagination seem boundless. Occasionally I receive items that appear to have been the resourceful combination of what could be found under the backseat of the family vehicle. These crusty creations usually consist of leftover Happy Meal parts, petrified french fries, and other unknown mummified objects all ingeniously held together with wads of chewed gum. They’re amazing! The sheer inspiration behind such gifts makes me crack up with laughter.
Upon one such presentation I caught the horrified stare of a visiting adult. Her expression declared, “I wouldn’t be caught dead touching that rotten thing!” I’m grateful I don’t feel the same way. It won’t surprise me a bit if one of these days I’m found passed out on my ranch, wearing a big dumb grin on my face while clutching something really gross.
A gift is a gift, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s a crushed bunch of flowers yanked from my own garden, a half-eaten cookie, or color-smeared little hands dropping M&M’S directly into my mouth. The presents I receive are always a reminder of how much I’m loved.
No matter the gift, the old adage still rings true: it really is the thought that counts.
With this fact in mind, I knew the upcoming day would be incredible. Not because it was August or even because the weather was beautiful. It was the perfect day because it was my birthday.
Most people didn’t know it was my birthday, which I like since folks then don’t feel obligated to give me anything other than a genuine hug. I love a warm embrace. My grandmother taught me that no matter how hard times get, it’s something everyone can afford to give.
Throughout the day as I was showered with cards, simple gifts, and a full bottle of water poured down my back, I knew that something else, something extraordinary, was on the way. It wasn’t intuition. My friend Cheree had called to tell me her daughter, Jenna, had done something remarkable for my birthday. Cheree was so thrilled about the gift that she called to tell me how excited I soon would be.
Every time I thought of Cheree’s call and the pure delight in her voice, I nearly felt like crying. Cheree was a single mother who had done her best to raise her daughter. This family of two worked remarkably hard simply to cover the basic necessities, things others don’t give a second thought to. In years past this mother and daughter had used finances allotted for Christmas gifts to pay the mortgage. Their gift to each other was the opportunity to continue living in their modest home.
Each did her best to make ends meet. Cheree was employed by an insurance company, and Jenna balanced finishing her senior year of high school with working at our ranch. Despite all the challenges mother and daughter faced, their faith remained firm in Christ. Their finances were skinny, yet He’d never let them down. I was moved by their tenacity to keep pushing forward no matter what the world told them they couldn’t do. Quite simply, they just did.
For me, being able to call them my friends was plenty gift enough.
It wasn’t until the celebration of another ranch day was coming to a close that Jenna sought me out. Her faded jeans were a canvas of the work and fun she’d combined throughout the afternoon. Dirty circles on her knees told a tale of pulling weeds, while multicolored spatters of paint on her legs revealed she’d helped a little “artist” who’d delighted in making her horse a rainbow Appaloosa. Water marks from a recent run through the sprinklers completed Jenna’s ranch fashion.
Together Jenna and I walked up the grassy hillside that leads to my home. She carried a beautifully wrapped box of substantial weight. Contemplating what could be so special and so heavy launched my curiosity into overdrive.
I held the front door open for Jenna as she led the way into my sunny kitchen. Standing between one wall that resembles a deep desert sunset and another colored to look like old parchment, she laid the package on the counter and indicated that I should open it. With a slight lift of her shoulders, my quiet girl said in a small voice, “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.” The smile that followed was a sweet mix of shy and radiant excitement.
Jenna’s clear blue eyes danced with anticipation as I began to unwrap her gift. Pure, innocent expectation filled the room like a rushing mountain stream. Whatever this item was, I knew that it meant a great deal to Jenna and that she loved it as well. The deeper I delved into the package, the more I felt her enthusiasm swell. My little kitchen was awash in a sloshing wave of eagerness that I would cherish her gift as much as she did.
Fully aware of her intent gaze on my face, I understood how enormously important the following moments would be. Whatever was about to happen clearly meant far more to her than simply giving me a birthday present. I knew this would be a very special moment between us.
Once the wrapping paper was off, I cut the heavy tape that held the package closed. I opened the box and was greeted with carefully placed crumpled wads of newspaper. This gift was heavy and breakable. Lifting out the last remaining layer of newsprint, I finally saw it. Recognition shot through my heart like an electric current! My voice collapsed beneath a tide of emotion.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! I couldn’t believe that Jenna was able to part with this beloved treasure! I couldn’t believe that she was giving this honored prize to me!
Instantly I was transported to a scene that had occurred two months earlier. Together Jenna and I strode down the halls of her high school. She had invited me to attend an art show hosted there. This special night was marked by the awards ceremony. Her entry had won its category; soon she would be stepping up in front of a packed house to receive her award. Jenna also planned on giving a small presentation about Crystal Peaks and receiving a donation for the ranch from the school’s art department.
As we walked shoulder to shoulder, I was pleasantly aware of just how beautiful she looked. Dressed in a simple light skirt, sleeveless top, and sandals, this tall, thin girl looked more elegant and striking than nearly any girl I’d ever seen. She was happy. Interestingly enough, it was her joy that transformed her. She was far beyond beautiful. She was radiant.
We entered the art department, where the show was being held. I walked behind Jenna as we carefully wove a serpentine path through the milling crush of students, parents, and art lovers. Once we reached the back wall, Jenna asked me to look through the pottery section.
It wasn’t long before my attention was drawn to a lovely collection of wheel-thrown plates and bowls. What initially caught my eye was the color. Half the entry was a vibrant hue that looked like adobe, the other half a cobalt blue. Each piece was embedded with the same hand-stamped Aztecish pattern. Because the stamp was pressed into the surface of each item, the glaze pooled within the design, making it slightly darker than the rest of the piece. The effect of the artistic arrangement of the plates and bowls was absolutely charming. I noticed a handmade tag that identified the collective masterpiece as Jenna’s.
“You made these?” I inquired and declared at the same time. Jenna was standing slightly behind me when I turned to look into her face. Sunlight bouncing off water would’ve paled in comparison to her smile. It didn’t really matter that her entry had won. What she’d made was beautiful. She knew it was special. She knew that what was displayed before us was her absolute best. This young woman, who possessed so little by worldly standards, had created something truly extraordinary.
Now, inside my kitchen, lov
ingly cushioned by secondhand newspapers in an old cardboard box, were Jenna’s beautiful plates and bowls.
To some, her gift might not have had any greater value than a widow’s mite. But to me it was absolutely priceless. I don’t remember the words that passed between us during the moments of freeing her gift from its newspaper cocoon. Whatever they might’ve been, I know they were paltry compared to the weight of emotion I felt. I knew what this gift meant to Jenna, and I knew what it cost her to give it up.
Even though this was the very best and most beloved thing she’d ever created, she willingly gave it all—to me.
Now I was the new keeper of the gift.
After that, whenever I entertained company or the ranch staff came up to the house for dinner, I used Jenna’s lovely plates to serve snacks. Her largest bowl was set in a place of prominence in my kitchen so its decorative grace could bless everyone who entered. And since I was the one who entered most often, I was the one who was most blessed. Hardly a day went by when I wasn’t deeply moved—again—by the significance of this remarkable gift.
I couldn’t have known it then, but the impact of Jenna’s gift was about to increase beyond anything I could have imagined.
Several months after I received the gift, my phone rang late one night. The news was horrific. There was a fire.
Though firefighters did all they could, the simple home that Cheree and Jenna shared was completely destroyed by flames. A faulty strand of Christmas lights was to blame. Thankfully, Cheree and Jenna were not home when the fire broke out, so neither was harmed. The same could not be said for the small manufactured home they had worked so hard to maintain. The inferno destroyed everything. Jenna shared how hard it was to sift through the charred remains of all they loved: “You don’t even realize how much you’ve lost until you find a fragment of a childhood toy, a scrap of a cherished photograph, or the blackened remains of prize ribbons you won on your very first horse.”
What the flames didn’t directly take, the intense heat and dense smoke did. Nothing in their home survived.
That is, almost nothing. In the months that followed, out of the ash something beautiful began to emerge.
Family, friends, and neighbors came together to help in a myriad of wonderful ways. With some assistance from their insurance company and the combined efforts of many, before long a brand-new home was up, and Cheree and Jenna were moving in.
It was immediately after their housewarming that I realized I’d brought the wrong gift. Their new home had some lovely items inside but didn’t feel like their home. It wasn’t until I was lying in bed that night, contemplating the day, that I realized why it seemed so different. Though their new house was adorned with nice things, none of them carried sentimental value. None were their things.
So I showed up on their new doorstep with another gift for their home. With a Cheshire cat grin, I was now the one bringing the old cardboard box into their bright new kitchen.
I set the box on a bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. Before I even opened the box, Cheree started to cry … She already knew what rare treasure lay inside. Jenna hugged me tight and simply whispered, “Thank you.” As if waiting for the gift’s homecoming, an empty wooden display area lay vacant, ready to be filled.
Jenna’s extraordinary plates and bowls had finally come home.
GIVING AND KEEPING OUR BEST
Our King is the Author of hope.
Shortly after returning Jenna’s cherished dishes to her care, I was again lying in bed at night, reflecting on the day. It was during this quiet time that the voice of my King began to speak: Child, you were able to give back to Jenna what she gave you. Had she given you nothing, that is exactly what you would have been able to return. It was with great love that she chose not to give you her leftovers or excess. Instead, she chose to give you her very best. It was precisely because of her selflessness that you were able to keep her treasure safe from the fire and then give it back to her when she needed it most—when the timing was perfect.
My girl, this is exactly what I wish for you to do with Me.
Will you trust Me with your very best? Afire is coming at the end of your days that nothing in this life can withstand … except what you select to willingly give Me. Understand that the things you choose to entrust to Me, you will have forever. But the things that you choose to hold on to will all perish.
I am hope. I never change; I never waver or fade. I abide far beyond any thief, fire, or economic boundary. Life is but a breath, and everything this world toils and clamors to gain will perish with its possessor. The only things that will endure the coming inferno will be the things you release to Me. Unlike the impostors of this world, I will keep whatever you place in My care far beyond any decay, destruction, or demolition. If you firmly choose to place your soul in Me, nothing in this world—not even death—can steal it away. I will hold you close for all eternity.
As I’ve considered those holy words since that night, I’ve often asked, Lord, am I giving You my excess, or am I giving You my very best? On that day when I will stand before You, are You going to give me a crown the size of a Cheerio because all I ever gave You was my junk? Or are You going to return something extraordinary … because that’s what I did my very best to entrust to You?
When we place our hope in Christ, it’s like putting everything we value—our hope, love, joy, peace, faith, and forgiveness—in a box and giving it to Christ. Once He has our hope, it’s secure—eternally secure. The enemy cannot steal, destroy, or even touch it. There’s nothing in, on, under, or above this world that can change the security of our hope. Once I have chosen to entrust Christ with my hope, the only one who can change its status is me.
I’m the only one who can choose to take my hope out of Christ and place it in other things—my appearance, boyfriend, new job, relationship, marriage, education, friendships, family, bank account. All these things are subject to change. All these things will eventually perish.
Our nonbelieving society calls the masses to live in a dream world of wealth, beauty, power, and acceptance. However, a dream world exists only in the mind of the dreamer. It’s our choice alone not to let our life’s goals be so dreamy and unreal that we awaken too late and miss the reality of God’s truth.
Real hope is no dream. It cannot be purchased with riches, popularity, or worldly security. Genuine hope comes from an honest, growing relationship with our Lord. It comes from our King alone.
Our King is the hope of all people and all nations: “You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds, O God our savior. You are the hope of everyone on earth” (Psalm 65:5).
Our Lord is able to keep all that we have committed to Him and save it until the day we stand face to face with Him. We can trust ourselves to the God who made us because He will never fail us. Because of His promises to us, how can we not reach for the truth of Hebrews 10:23: “Without wavering, let us hold tightly to the hope we say we have, for God can be trusted to keep his promise”?
We serve a Lord who is the Author of creating and giving gifts. His own Word declares, “Whatever is good and perfect comes to us from God above” (James 1:17). He is never bankrupt. When we place our hope and our value in Him, we too will become rich in all the ways that matter most.
He isn’t keeping plates and bowls … He’s keeping us.
Editor’s Note: Read more about Jenna and Cheree in the stories “Simple Gifts,” found in Kim’s book Hope Rising, and “Cleansing Fire,” found in Kim’s book Bridge Called Hope.
12
THE WILDERNESS
He Leads Us Home
Over three hundred. That’s how many horses our team at Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch has helped save and introduce to a second chance at life. One of the four pillars of our organization is to “rescue the equine.” I’ve been salvaging horses since 1995 and thought I’d seen it all. Sadly, I was wrong.
Troy and I were driving home through the desolate Oregon outback, traveling ove
r a golden roller coaster of undulating hills. The late October afternoon was framed by low, cloudy, lavender skies, adding to the unique drama and beauty of the high desert. As we crested the top of another grassy knoll, I was startled by the ring of my cell phone. It was my dear friend Sue.
Our conversation had hardly started before my reception was cut off. Establishing connection was like trying to catch a rock skipping off the top of waves, as we had only a few seconds of reception on the high points of the road. Through her broken messages I was able to piece together that Sue was calling about a horse in need. He’d been found in the wilderness and was severely injured. Would we take him?
I was able to respond in the affirmative before our sporadic communication was lost completely. We would have to drive the remaining five hours home to hear the rest of the story.
Upon arriving at the ranch, Troy and I learned that our new sight-unseen horse was a small six-year-old gelding that had staggered into a hunters’ camp during the night. The horse’s wounds were so serious that the outdoorsmen called the U.S. Forest Service to send a ranger to hike in and euthanize him. The woman assigned this task evaluated him and saw he was still fighting for his life. Encouraged by his will to live, she led him down the mountainside under the brilliant light of a full moon and into a waiting horse trailer.
The region where the horse was located was high in the wilderness of the Cascade Range, yet his halter and dragging lead rope showed the dark bay Arab gelding was certainly not wild. Instead, the rescued horse was kind and gentle, quietly submitting to everyone who sought to care for him. While being led out of the wilderness and transported for emergency treatment, he behaved like a wounded gentleman. Those who assisted him estimated he’d been wandering for weeks. He looked to be about two hundred pounds underweight, an enormous amount for a small horse, and was incredibly dehydrated.
