Serendipity Sunday: A Rusty Bucket or a Perfect Pot.....

Serendipity: Making a delightful or unexpected discovery

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the same comfort we ourselves have received from God."

~2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV~

This week I discovered the following story and it really touched my heart and made me think. It stayed with me all week and affirmed what I believe to be true, our hardships are not wasted, each experience we have is not without purpose. Sometimes we cannot see the purpose, especially when we are in the midst of a trial but there is one. So often in my life I have gone through something and to later be able to support another who is going through the same thing. I find that because I have been there that I can offer comfort, support, advice, compassion, a shoulder to cry on, and an arm to lean on. I hope this story helps you to find the beauty in brokenness.

A young man was in a car accident and he was laying in a hospital in critical condition with internal injuries and serious burns. His grandfather, a minister, stood at the podium weeping, asking his congregation to pray for the young man. This was a very low time in the grandfathers life, a time when he questioned God's reason for things. He realized that we all have times like that, times when we stumble in our faith. This was a time when he felt he was really and truly alone.

He stood looking over the young mans bed thinking that here was the boy who had played linebacker on the football team, who made good grades, and earned a scholarship to college. Who never disappointed his parents a day in his life, a wonderful son and grandson ~ everything they ever hoped for. The doctors were telling his family that he would not be perfect anymore. If he recovered, he was going to have scars on his arms and legs from the burns. And the minister asked God why. Why would you take this young, good~looking beautiful boy and leave him the rest of his life with scars?

God did not answer his question right away, He left the minister to think and ponder and pray. One day the minister went out in the back lot behind the church, back near a hill of dirt where the kids liked to play sometimes, to mow the grass which had sprung up after a recent rain. He saw all of these old buckets, pots, and pans the kids left behind sitting around near the dirt pile. As he looked around he noticed something. The perfect containers caught the rainwater and held it until it became stagnant and black. All the grass around them was dead. The containers that were dented or cracked or had holes in them had probably caught rainwater as well, but they had poured the water out through the holes. There was no stagnant water in them, and all the grass around them was growing.

He realized that it is the same with people. It's those little nicks and dents and imperfections of spirit that allow us to flow out into a thirsty world. It's our scars that allow us to relate to the scars of others, our suffering connects us to others who suffer. He still did not know why God put scars on his beautiful grandson. He was deeply thankful that by this time, two and one half years later, his grandson had made a recovery and was entering medical school. One thing he did know was that when his grandson became a doctor, when he reached out to those who are wounded and hurting, they were going to realize that he had been where they are. The young man would understand his patients in a way that many doctors never would, and just by the virtue of those scars on his arms, he would show them that life does indeed go on. He would be able to flow out into other people in a way that would be impossible if God had left his life perfect.

The lesson in this story is to consider for yourselves which life you would rather have, which vessel you'd rather be. A perfect pot? Or imperfect rusty bucket? Ready to hold in everything that comes your way, or ready to pour out and be refilled with each new rain? Closed to the world...or open to the possibilities...

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

This story is my paraphrased version from the inspirational novel, "The Language of the Sycamores" by Lisa Wingate