When our mother died, my grandfather, younger brother and I went to live with my dad's brother and his wife. Aunt Marie and Uncle Cleve had three girls, one older than me, one younger and another my same age. They had a boy about the age of my brother. As I look back on it, I am amazed at how well we got along together. We had spats like brothers and sisters do but it WAS like brothers and sisters.
My aunt and uncle both worked to keep food on the table for all of us. There was never an abundance of anything but we never seemed to want for the necessities.
One Christmas all the kids were trying to figure out what we could give each other since we had no money. Since I was especially close to my cousin, Sandy, the girl my same age, I wanted to give her a special gift. But what? I had very little, nothing of real value . . . except my pink piggy bank. I LOVED my piggy bank. I kept every penny I found, every spare money I had (which was minimal) in that piggy bank. I don't really know why I cherished it so. I was getting a little old for such an attachment (I was around 12).
I finally came to the decision. I would give my piggy bank to my cousin. I wrapped it in Christmas paper and waited with excitement as she opened it. She was delighted! So was I . . . for a few hours. Then I wanted my piggy bank back! I had, on an emotional impulse, given away something I treasured beyond words. I didn't get my piggy bank back but I mourned for it for some time.
God gave something away. Something he treasured beyond words. His Son. Unlike me, he didn't want to take back the gift. He gave it willingly. He never regretted giving the gift, though he may have mourned over what his Son went through to purchase our salvation. Do we treasure that gift as we should? It is without price!
Thankful God didn't want to take back his gift, Gloria
You felt so good that your cousin was so delighted with ther gift.
And, while the God did not regret giving us his Son, I bet he does mourn when that gift is thrown back in his face with a "no thanks".
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