The Sacrifice

This morning I reached for the roast beef, and lifted it out of its package, and placed it in the hot electric skillet. As it sizzled away, I noticed my finger tips. They were sticky. I looked down at them and they were red with the blood from that roast.

I stood there at the kitchen counter, squeezing them together. Opening them, then shutting them together. As I worked them back and forth, my mind traveled to two special words in the English vocabulary.  Heart and Love.

When I stood there at the kitchen sink, looking at my finger tips, covered with that blood, I thought of sacrifice. Then I thought of the heart. Then of that beautiful word love. To me blood specks of sacrifice. When I think of sacrifice I think of pure love flowing from the heart.

But this morning I thought of something else. As I looked at MY finger tips. covered with blood, I started to remember some very special personal sacrifices given just for me.  I thought that to make those sacrifices, there had to be a true love flowing from a tender and true heart. Love is a beautiful thing. Love can do beautiful things to another's heart. Love can build bridges where nothing else can. Love can reach the very depth of a cold heart. Love can turn your world to sunshine and joy.

The greatest sacrifice ever made to man, was from God Himself. It came from heaven to me. As I stood there in the kitchen, I thought of God. I wondered how He felt when He said good-bye to His Son and sent Him down to me for a few years. I wondered if He, like me, would of felt the emptiness of Jesus absence? I'm sure He did. There would of been a emptiness there in heaven. Jesus was gone away. I wondered if God thought about the day His Son would come back again. Back to sit beside Him in heaven.

I thought of the sacrifice of heaven when those men took God's Son and hung Him on that old rugged cross. I thought of the heart of a Father, as He watched His Son that day. I thought of the pain it would of cost God to turn His face from Jesus for just a little while. And as I stood there by that kitchen sink, looking at the tips of my fingers, my heart filled all up with love to think God sacrificed so much. He was willing to be lonesome. Jesus was willing to leave "home" for just a little while. And they were willing to do all of this for me. A tiny little speck here in the world that they had made.

As I continued to think of this subject all day, other pictures came to my mind. I was taken, through my minds eye, to the battle fields of World War 1 and 2. I was taken to the battle fields of the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Civil War. I thought of sweethearts saying good bye, or a mother standing at the mailbox at the end of the lane, reading a letter from her son who was fighting on a battle field, far from home. I thought of a father kneeling beside the old bed, tears streaming down his face, as he prayed for the son who had went off to war. I thought of a mother, a sweetheart, a wife, walking slowly to the door, opening it and handed a piece of paper, with those final words. I thought of the reunion of happy soldiers with their loved ones, as they came home. I saw, in my minds eye, flag covered caskets, little children holding little American flags.

And as I thought of my finger tips, I thought: "And to think these brave men and women fought for me. These sweethearts, wives, fathers and mothers, were willing to sacrifice for me. They were willing to let him go for me. They were willing to say good bye, for just a little while, or for ever... just for me.

Then my mind went to my own dining room table. At noon, my husband reached his farmers hand out to me and I took hold of it, we bowed our heads and he returned thanks for our food. As I pictured those rough calloused hands of my husband, my heart melted, with love for this man. For all the sacrifice he has done for me. For all the times he has showed his love for me, in his quiet gentle way.

I have watched as those hands hammered nails into a 2 x 4, tighten a barb wire to a old hedge post, gently cleaned the nose of a new born calf, and held a wet, slimy baby pig, then placing it beside mothers dinner plates. I have watched as those hands held his new born child to his chest. I watched as those hands reached down to take the small hand of his grandchild. I felt those arms around me, holding me close as I stood beside my fathers casket. I felt those arms around me, assuring me that we would make it, as time after time we stood watching as another rain cloud passed us by.

I watched as my husband drove the tractor around and around the wheat fields, planting yet another crop. I watched as he bid for an old tractor, at the auction, knowing it would do, because he didn't want me to have a debt over my head. I  watched him walk slowly into our living room, his arm behind his back, and a shy smile on his lips, as he held out that bouquet of roses he surprised me with... just once.

Yes...while I stood there this morning, at the kitchen sink, squeezing my finger tips together, back and forth, I remembered....I remembered what a luck girl I really am. I remembered all the sacrifices men and women alike, have been willing to make...just for me, and I'm thankful.

Knowing the cost that came because love flowed from the heart of God and these brave men and women and my husband, I can only give of myself to another.  That's how love works, isn't it?  It's like a pebble. Someone throws it into the water and it sends out ripples....going on and on and on...out into that vast ocean we call life.