It struck me that Benito's giving me one of the flowers from our yard is like our pitiful tithe to God.
I think I have blogged about Benito before. He is eight or nine years old. He has lived next door since he was born. I remember him bundled up in blankets sitting out in the stroller. He was that toddler that chased our kitty in our yard, and peeked into our garage.
We could not even talk to him until he started school and learned English. But, as a little kid, being bored, he would throw rocks into the street, and lob them onto our cars parked in our drive. I used to provide him balls, nerf balls, and bribed him not to throw rocks at our cars.
He became friends, but more like a surrogate grandson. He would show up to visit, and asked only for drawing materials.
For a while, he would "trade" me a flower---roses he got from his aunt or someone in his house, and we would give him a box of juice, a piece of candy, some chips. Then, lately, the flower was a weed culled from our side yard, and now our Wandering Jew plant that is flourishing by the sidewalk. When we were out of town last week, we came home to picked flowers on the brick ledge by the front door.
But, it struck me, that anything we give back to God is something that came from Him in the first place. We are merely facilitators. We can give of our time, money, energy, but these are small, pitiful things compared to what we are given. So, maybe Benito is to keep me humble.