Gage's trike is red and yellow plastic. It's one of those ones that is supposed to have a pole sticking out the back so a parent can give a shove if needed without constantly bending over, but the pole is missing.
He has had it for over a year now... & the sound of those wheels burnin' 'round is as familiar to me as his voice these days. We bring it with us every time we go to the fountain and he turns that concrete circle into his own personal Talladega. If another child approaches his ride, there is a furious weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. i have given up getting him to share his prized possession... i figure he shares the world with 6 siblings - is it so bad that he wants one trike to be his alone?
The thing is...
That trike was salvaged from a dumpster. My friend, having overheard my son crying for a bike last year, providentially noticed one tossed out, and promptly rescued it - bringing it over to our house one blessed day last year.
What was deemed garbage... was given a new lease on life.
& i? i feel at times like i too could be deemed garbage.
"The world grows weary of me," i think to myself in a moment of weakness, "i should be replaced... i have nothing left of any value to contribute..."
But i do.
And He sees it - with his All Seeing Eyes...
And He plucks me from the heap.
He gives me to these seven children - to paw and love and wear... and i glory in performing the job He saw me suited for...
So place me where You need me, Father. Pick me from the rubbish and use me.
Not replaced; restored.
Not trashed; treasured.
Not overlooked; discovered.