Handful of Purpose

So the story goes that Ruth, the foreigner, travels back with her mother-in-law, Naomi, to the town of Bethlehem.  Ruth takes to the local barley and wheat fields to pick up leftover grain to provide food for them.  In the process, Ruth gains the favor of Boaz the owner of the farm.  He specifically instructs his workers to purposely drop handfuls of grain that can be picked up by Ruth, as they are tying up their harvest bundles. . .

Gleaning is hard work, especially bending over to pick up a few grains here and there.  But finding a handful or clump of grain would certainly be encouraging and rewarding to find.  Sometimes I am too focused on the task of gleaning.  I find myself tired of stooping, bending, scavenging for small strands of grain.  Maybe I am missing the "handful of purpose" dropped right before me. . .

I look outside at my garden and have to admit that that there are numerous "handfuls of purpose".  The hanging jasmine on my juniper tree that towers 10 feet or more was never planted by myself, and yet it thrives and bears the most beautiful springtime scent that graces my bedroom patio open door.  The brightly colored birds that build their nests nearby my kitchen window and give their song to me each morning, just seemed to drop into my yard.  My dill herb that completely vacates the winter months and yet reappears on its own, in its place, is always there, just in time for me to use it in my summertime potato salad dish.  My garden displays so many "purposeful handfuls" . . . 

What "handful of purpose" will I find today?  Am I looking or am I caught up in the ordinary?  I must admit during this week, I found myself tired and somewhat slumped in my posture and mood.  The tasks required at work and home felt like all I accomplished was a few small morsels.  But now in reflecting upon my week, I wonder did I miss the "handfuls of purpose" that were thrown before me?

Maybe one is right here in my home.  A family member cleans and vacuums in my absent times.  That same one washes and cleans up any dishes so that none are found in my kitchen sink. . . 
Or stopping at my strawberry stand to pick up berries and cherries, I find myself $1.00 short, but the kind owner says "go ahead, take the fruit, you're a 
regular! 
Or maybe it was that hug that came from my almost 96 year old friend I visited today, who always tells me "love ya, love ya, love ya. . ."
Or perhaps it is the supporting friendship of my co-workers and girlfriends every day, year after year . . . 

May I have an open heart to not miss out on the "purpose handfuls" of God's grace and kindness coming my way . . .