My daughter, Izzy, some time ago gave me a pencil drawing she made at school as a gift. The daisy was wispy, but confident. The blurred edges of the graphite petals made the appearance of wind, and I couldn’t help but think of how her mind was creating movement within this still image. Her sketch remained behind her back while she waited for my full attention.

“There is one thing I have to tell you first,” she began, eyes fully locked on my own. “The teacher said I messed up on the words, so just look at the picture NOT the words, okay?”

“No problem,” I replied matching her serious tone.

I smiled deeply…the kind where your heart soaks up the sadness of the day and releases it in the warm breath solely reserved for humble gratitude. Yeah, you know the kind: the smile which cleanses your whole being and opens your eyes to the world just beyond self-absorption.

Of course I read the words which were printed in varying sizes of lettering in the dirt of the flower. I tend not to cry much as I have always found tears are often either misunderstood or give attention I would rather not receive. However, there are those moments in which I do allow tears to flow without regard to perception: baptisms, celebrating one’s arrival into God’s arms, hugging someone of whom you feel the exchange of unspoken friendship, watching old lovers embrace like teenagers, hearing God through music, slow dances, and those moments which take my heart before I have the chance to reign it back in. Izzy’s sketch did the latter.

Her drawing captured my full attention; however, her words captured my heart.

I knew what the teacher was thinking the words should be; however, to me they were perfectly written in the imperfect penmanship of a seven-year-old, freckled-face girl looking at me now with anxious anticipation.

“Mom, you read the words! I can tell!” she yelled as she stomped her foot. “I didn’t mean to mess up. I was just trying to make it pretty for you.”

Yep, that was when the tears came. My weak eye always starts first. This is ironic as I think in my weakness I am strongest in God. I am less moved in the stubborn empire of survival; and more powerful in the submission of His will. He uses my tears to wash my eyes of my own world so that I can see more clearly into the lives of others.

Izzy took the paper from my hands. A tear had fallen on her picture. “Why are you crying?”

“I am crying because your picture is so beautiful that it made my heart swell. I am crying love.”

“Even though I messed up?” she asked as she wiped a falling tear from my cheek.

I couldn’t help but think this is how God is to us. He waits patiently for our full attention, takes all the mess we hide from others and asks to see it. He takes it in His hands and washes it clean by crying love over it. Blurred pasts, windblown memories, fragile growth, and confident hopes make up the image He sees within picture in our eyes. And the words upon our heart may not always be what they should, but if we give ALL of us…our imperfections, our mistakes, our fears, our insecurities, our dreams, our weaknesses, our talents, and our joys to Him, HE will deposit new hope and refine our soul.  And our mistakes will be the very thing which will set us free to fully bloom in the land of grace.

For He wants NOTHING more than to use our lives to glorify Him. When all you see are the mistakes and the fear, then you miss the daisies. You miss a new chance to grow closer to Him each day. And you miss the beautiful way God holds us in His hands and sees not our mistakes, but what we are to Him and what we will become once we fully trust in Him.

“It was supposed to say, ‘BE ONE OF A KIND’” Izzy said softly as she searched my eyes for approval.

It read, “BE ONE OF THE KIND.”

“It is exactly as it should be, my love. Exactly as it should be.”

Be one of the kind today. And start with yourself. Take whatever it is you are most afraid of, what you hide behind in the painful memories, what you fear for your future, and what keeps you from giving yourself FULLY to God. Allow Him to take a look at all of you. Allow Him to see you, hold you, and set your life on the journey of creating new views, new blooms, and new stories. He is waiting.