The Mustard Seed didn’t ask to be small.
In her dreams she may have been
glamorous like a flower or
important like an oak.
But with her “Yes” His Grace was planted.
The Mustard Seed didn’t ask to grow tall,
Pushing her roots through rocky dust.
Her leaves seared by Summer sun.
But with her ache and sweat she sowed
The Faith and Life His Plan demanded.
The Mustard Seed didn’t ask to shelter all
the flock He gathered in her branches.
But with her love she held us together
and became the Love His Law commanded.
I wrote this to send to my Grandma Clark who turns nintey years old this week. She is, in my eyes, one of the saintliest people I know. One of the most humble and doggedly joyful people I know. When I look around at our Thanksgiving gatherings with eighty family members I marvel at what God has made through the love of this one little person. She reminds me of the Oklahoma Hill Country Church of Christ version of St. Therese Of Lisieux and her Little Way.
Happy 90th Birthday Grandma Clark!