WHAT’S YOUR MITE?

Step. Step. Step. Step.
Her last two coins; she drops them in.
Step. Step. Step.
Imagine the war raging within.
He watched her every shuffling step;
He understood her action’s depth.
So little; so generous- a paradox;
Her entire livelihood in that box.
She hadn’t sought to make impact;
And yet her two mites touched his heart.
Widow. Poor. She wasn’t impressed.
It wasn’t much; but it was her best.
Small gesture. Four verses. High standard set.
Did she even know what it all meant?
She never sensed Him watching her.
His praise did never reach her ear.
I don’t think you quite understand;
That was her future in her hands.
Her savings; pension; her next meal;
She gave to Him- of her free will.

So now, I ask you: what’s your mite?
What’s it you’re holding oh, so tight?
Open your heart, unclench your fist;
How else can you receive His gift?
Does He deserve less than your best?
Why clutch His offering to your chest?
This God; the One you say you trust
Would you give all up if He asked?
You have the time; the money; heart.
You sense the need; now, play your part.
Our God who reads each heart and mind
Rewards in the fullness of time;
So though all taste of His kindness,
He watches for cheerful givers.
If it’s your heart He uses
Why do you make excuses?
Her mites; His life- dare you forget?
They gave their all; although it hurt.
Today, what is your sacrifice?
What can you offer? What’s your mite?