We walk hand in hand, Tiny Daughter and I. Walk briskly to avoid the biting wind, our boots crunching on a layer of freshly fallen snow.

Tiny Daughter is chattering about some change that she possesses, that she received from Small Son. How she wants to buy some chocolate for Brother “and for you, Mom.”

The parking lot ends and we arrive at the mouth of a store that doesn’t sell chocolate. Excitement builds as the automatic door senses our approach and separates to let us enter. The chatter goes on about how much money she has. A big smile pervades her face and she won’t be deterred, even by a store that doesn’t sell chocolate.

I finally break out of my world and into hers. Ask how much money she has. Can she please hand it to Mommy for a second?

The little pink crocheted mittened hand that has been so tightly clutched opens slowly so as not to lose the precious coins.

And resting in her palm are four pennies. Underneath the pennies a lonely dime tries to be seen. The hand closes quickly.

Fourteen cents total. Definitely not enough for any kind of chocolate.

I tell her that she doesn’t have enough. And I break the news to her giving heart that “this store doesn’t sell chocolate.”

She is not to be swayed. “Well, maybe they will have some today!” She says it with a huge smile, confidence exuding from her little body. Her trust is so pure, so unwavering.

I find myself wishing I were more like her.

I purchase what I went in for, and we crunch back across the parking lot and she climbs into her carseat, still dreaming of all the chocolate she can buy with her coins.

Next stop- the grocery store. “They do have chocolate here!!” she says breathlessly.

And I know she’s right.  I have so much chocolate at home…too much, my thoughts tell me.

But how can you say no to a completely giving heart like hers? Not a thought for herself, she’s now excitedly picking out the best chocolate for Mommy and Brother. She settles on a pack of M&Ms and clutches them in the hand that’s not holding money.

Her big eyes beam up at me, still completely oblivious that she doesn’t have enough money. It doesn’t have her worried in the least.

Once again in less than an hour, I find myself wishing to be more like this Tiny Daughter of mine.

I stop putting broccoli and yogurt and rye bread on the conveyor belt and open my change purse.

I put a loonie in her hand, on top of the four pennies and the dime still wishing to be noticed. One dollar and fourteen cents shine back at me.

“Now you have enough,” I tell her with a smile. Actually, now she has more than enough.

Her happiness is steady, as before. And she reaches up and plunks down the fistful of coins. The cashier beams back, and the dime is finally noticed.

I recall again what my gifts must look like to my heavenly Father, my Jesus Who gave all for me. He Who owns everything, even what I clutch in my hand. I have these ideas…of what I want to do for Him. He asks to see what I have, and I’m afraid to show Him. I don’t want to lose what I have. I don’t want to admit that I need something…Someone.

He just wants to see if I’m surrendered. And He wants to add His grace to my handful. He wants to make it enough. He doesn’t even have to notice my pittance, but He does because He gave it to me with a plan in mind. He also knows that my handful is nothing on it’s own- far from being good enough.

But with Him it’s more than good enough. It’s a beautiful treasure that I can give back to Him, along with the glory that He deserves.

When I make a go of it on my own, with my fist tightly closed, my handful stays just that- a handful.

But when I open my hand and let Him take away or add to my handful, it becomes a bountiful basket of blessing as I submit to His plan. As His child, I don’t always understand why. He is more concerned with changing me to be more like Him (didn’t I pray for it?) than with what I want to do for Him. Trusting the beauty of God’s heart in His dealings with us is a learning process, a constant choice that takes us deeper into fellowship with Him, sometimes involving “the fellowship of His sufferings.”

“That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death.”  Philippians 3:10

I open my eyes. My children are the tools that God is using to teach me. I am the student.

Life is the schoolroom, the soil. Unconditional Love works the lessons deep into my heart.

And as my children grow, I share with them the same lessons.

The lessons they taught me.

Lessons of trust…of surrender.