Soggy. Dry. Blah.
Hardly a sight for hungry eyes, with the exception of possibly pizza. I can eat these stale triangles like nobody’s business.
No one in my house eats food in white, foam containers. With the exception of hubby, who happens to be a modern version of the old ‘Life Cereal’ commercial.
“Give it to Billy, he’ll eat anything.”
He even ate my what my girls call “yellow chicken”.
It resembled a Chernobyl accident of poultry.
Yet, he still lives. Remarkable.
And, I get it. There are starving people in the world; we should be grateful for every bite, but still.
What usually happens is I’ll keep the leftover bites in the fridge to slowly pass time until the guilt of throwing away has passed. Usually when the leftover takes on a significant smell as it morphs into a moldly concoction similar to a petri-dish at the CDC.
Interestingly enough, Jesus felt leftovers were significant. He picked them up on more than one occasion, and placed them in baskets.
He also felt the same of leftover people.
He stopped while others walked by. Chatted. Questioned.
And over a brief period of time, a transformation occurred.
Many of these outcasts became new creations.
I woke up from a dream a few years ago. Actually it was more of a vision.
Not at all an ordinary sleep-induced,subconscious-overload from pizza, but a message from the Dream-Giver Himself–
All I remember seeing is a basket with a book sitting upright titled, HARVEST.
Until this morning, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the meaning, which intuitively I knew was significant.
Today I wonder, could it be the harvest are individuals–the ones who feel left behind in life? The ones who sit on the shoulder of society–discarded?
Do you often feel like a leftover? Left out? Left behind?
Please know this: You, dear one, are savored by God. You are special. He dreamt of the day, years before you were made. He delights in you. He never tires of you. Every second of your life. You are not a waste.
He will never discard you no matter how awful you think you are.