How One Man’s Trash Is Another Woman’s Treasure

I still remember where I was sitting the day I was given gold.  
Well, not literally gold, but something similar.
I am not entirely sure of all the details surrounding the gift, but I remember the gift and the gift-giver so clearly.

I somehow mentioned, several years ago, somewhere–who knows where–that our small garden at our old house was not doing well.  I must have lamented on Facebook about the poor bean crop we were getting or asked advice about gardening.  It doesn’t really matter how the information got out, but it did.
Our garden really kind of stunk one year.  We couldn’t get things to grow and we were frustrated.

We are proud parents of a little boy who has severe food allergies and so grocery shopping, especially at that point in our lives, was hard.  I was a stay-at-home homeschooling mom, my husband was working for the county and that garden was a way that we were able to save money, give our little family great food and we depended on it.

But, one year, it didn’t produce hardly anything.  I went to church that week as usual when a gentleman approached me with a huge bag under his arm. I kind of knew him and his family, but I didn’t know them well.  I remember him, still, as I sit here writing this, smiling as he walked towards me.  He handed me the bag.

“Your garden is not good this year.  Ours is good.”  It was so simple.  We barely spoke.  I don’t remember if those were his exact words, but the words he used were few.

I opened the bag and found gold from a family I barely knew.  The bag was full of green beans.  

I didn’t know what to say, I was dumbfounded.  He and his wife had a large family.  I didn’t want to take anything from them, initially.  Surely, they needed the beans.  And, I hardly knew them.

But, he was smiling and it was genuine.  I humbly accepted his gift.  I more than likely cried, mumbled the words “thank you” over and over again.  Knowing him better now, he more than likely assured me it was his pleasure to give them to me.

I brought the bag into the sanctuary with me and it sat at my feet.  They were beautiful beans.  They meant so much to me.   

It wasn’t long after that exchange when I realized that day that the gift of those beans was not just to me. He felt the weight of the thankfulness as well.  His gift to me was ultimately a gift unto himself.

We both were given a blessing that day.


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