There was nothing particularly special about this day except that … I had to take my daughter to a dental appointment, to a periodontist, for an evaluation of tissue grafting. Her braces have shifted her teeth, which is a good thing, but the gum line for one front tooth has dropped down … and it looks like the one next to it might end up with the same problem.
For goodness sake—the problems.
We had to drive through the big city of Mesquite, Texas, and up to Richardson. I’m a small town girl, but glory hallelujah, we made it. By accident, of course. And by accident, we ended up walking into the back of the building, and the first door we came to was our needed door. Another accident and another glory hallelujah.
Sitting in that waiting room, all alone with my two girls, I looked up to the wall and saw this huge frame. I almost laughed out loud when I saw the display—a rug. A small rug. Not new or old … just a little bold. Bright green and fuchsia pink. A little frayed around the edges. Maybe there was something special about it … like maybe it belonged to his grandmother or his mother or someone the dentist loved.
I said to the lady behind the counter, “Ms. Kelly, what is the story behind that rug?” Did you really just ask that? Out loud? To someone you just met? Yes, I did.
“It’s a funny thing,” said Ms. Kelly. “There’s nothing special about that rug. You’d think it had belonged to his grandmother or something. You’d think it had sentimental value.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said, with my grandmother’s kitchen rug placed in my mind.
“But it doesn’t. The doctor and his wife, well, they like to antique shop. And well, they just found this rug, and they decided to frame it,” Ms. Kelly added.
“Well, you know, that’s really what makes it so special,” I said. “There’s nothing special about it at all. It’s just an ordinary rug. But someone found it. Someone loved it enough to frame it.”
And that’s why I love God so much. Because I’m just ordinary. I’m not young or old. I’m not even bold. I’m a little frayed. There is not one special, unique thing about me. Not to my eyes.
But not to God’s eyes. He loved me enough to make me, to find me, to reach down to me …
It’s like He daily frames my face in His hands and says, “You are special to me. I love you. I want you. I love you, and I want you with all your problems. I know what you’ve done and what you haven’t done.”
He straightens the frame just a little and eyes me. “Look at me. Look at me. I’m the door you need.”
And just like that—our ordinary becomes extraordinary. How could it not?
And just like that, we become guilty of being special. Of being wanted. Of being loved.
“He sends from heaven and saves me, rebuking those who hotly pursue me—God sends forth his love and his faithfulness“—Psalm 57:3.
Call me crazy, but I like to think of God’s hands as “love and faithfulness” reaching down to save. Amen? Can you envision it?
And because sometimes I just need to talk to you face to face … I love you …
If you hear that hammering in the background … that is our neighbor’s home being rebuilt. Glory! It burned to the ground last September.
Do ever feel ordinary? How has God shown you how extraordinary you are? Has He shown you in a unique way how special you are to Him? How much He loves you? I wish you’d share your stories with me.