Even in the Little Things

When each of our sons was born, we were part of a warm, caring congregation who rejoiced with us in the birth of a child and eagerly welcomed that child into the church family.  With Josiah, this happened in San Diego; with David, it was in Israel; and with Tobin and Shav, it was in a church that meets just down the road from us here in Virginia.  Although with all of our pregnancies except the first, we didn't really need much in the way of material things, we were still abundantly blessed by the generosity of those congregations.  Specifically, in the cases of Tobin and Shav, the church followed their tradition of giving, on the occasion of the baby's dedication, each child a quilt made by the women of the church.  Those quilts are still treasured and used by my two youngest sons.

This time around, things are different.  One of the consequences of this spiritual pilgrimage we've been on for the past few years, as we visited quite a few different congregations, is that we haven't been settled in one place to connect deeply with one particular church family.  Much more could be said about this--both the pros and cons of this desert-wandering--but as it relates to this post, let me just say this:  when I found out I was having a girl, I knew I wanted a special blanket or quilt for her.  Something that could be uniquely hers, something on which I could take my daughter's monthly pictures (as I've seen other bloggers do with their children during the first year of life, and have wanted to imitate), and, of course, something pretty and feminine.  :)  If I could quilt, I would have tried to make one of my own.  If I could knit or crochet, I would have done it that way.  Unfortunately, although my female ancestors possessed those abilities in abundance, I apparently missed out when that gene got passed along, because I am all thumbs--and a blank, befuddled brain--when it comes to any of those pursuits!  

So there I was, desiring a special quilt for Baby Girl, but not being able to make one for her and knowing that no congregation would be blessing us with one either.  I wasn't bitter about that, just aware that our choices in regards to church membership had put us in this position.  As a result, should I buy a quilt or blanket for our baby?

While I was still mulling this over several months ago, who should appear on my doorstep but Lisa with several bags bulging with baby clothes her daughter had outgrown.  And not only clothes, but a quilt.  This quilt.  This beautiful, feminine, pink-and-purple-and-green, hearts-and-flowers-and-butterflies quilt.

 The perfect quilt for my little girl.

 I could not have asked for a better quilt; it is exactly what I would have chosen, given a choice.

Lisa might have thought, on that November day, that she was just giving me a quilt.  But what she was actually handing me was a vivid, unforgettable, oh-so-comforting reminder that, even in the little things, God cares for me.

Even when we wander through the spiritual wilderness with loneliness as our most-present companion, God cares for us.  Even when we have desires that we know are silly (after all, it's certainly not a necessity to take monthly pictures of my daughter on a special quilt), God intimately knows the dreams that are most precious to us, and He cares for us.

Even in the little things.