I write this sitting in the window seat by windows wide open… one of my favorite things. There is no breeze, only a perfect soft stillness. Miracle of miracles, I am neither too hot nor too cold. My view is filled with a green yard and bushes who declare with their colorful blooms, “What winter?”

Such is the gift of a winter on the Texas Coast. I will need a blanket tonight and a sweater the next two days, but then balmy will return again. It is a rhythm I’ve come to love, and the gift I didn’t know was waiting for me here. One of many, in fact.

I did not move here because I desired this place. I lived here as a teenager, left, and never wanted to return. Heat, humidity, mosquitoes, and the absence of mountains and trees who turn glorious colors in fall, all dimmed any enthusiasm for returning here. But six years ago I did return here with my husband, not because I loved here, but because I loved people here. Parents growing old who needed our help.

For this reason we were glad to come, even though it meant uprooting a twenty year life in which life-long friendships grew and nourished us. We knew it pleased the Lord for us to come, and even that would have been enough reason. But it was a sacrifice.

Truth is, I haven’t always been the kind of person who would make such a sacrifice.

When I finally let Jesus into my heart, I was as selfish as they come. But the Spirit of the Lord had changed me, given me new values. And for the first time in my life, I had someone I wanted to honor and obey.

Even so, I might not have been willing to make the sacrifice of moving to Mosquitoville fifteen years ago. Sure, I was a different woman with new values, but still fairly weak on the self-sacrifice part. What made the difference?

History. My history with the Spirit, directing my life. He began with little things, little sacrifices, and worked me up to bigger ones. A shrewd move on His part. I know some people get the “dive in the deep end” right away treatment, but I’ve learned God doesn’t have a cookie-cutter approach with His children.

Here’s what our history taught me, gradually, steadily, faithfully: that every sacrifice God requires of me, whether by command or His instilled values, will come with hidden gifts. That once I say yes with my whole heart, the strength of the Spirit comes, not just to help me endure, but to thrive in that obedience. And more than that, to encounter unexpected delights along the way.

Like sitting by a window writing on a winter’s day, after puttering about my yard enjoying cheerful flowers, and not a mosquito in sight.

So I treasure my South Texas winters. All the more precious because I know they won’t last forever, I savor the days.

The hidden gifts of sacrifice have come in such varied forms.

Meeting someone who became a dear friend. Having a month of mountains and trees turning gold, orange and red while living out of a suitcase on a ministry trip. Learning something new that added to my life in enduring ways. And most important, discovering more about the personality, love and wisdom of my God. There are things you don’t see about someone’s heart until you are with them in the trenches or uncharted waters, trying to find your way home again.

You learn, in obedience and sacrifice, that God IS your home. Safe, secure, satisfying.

I’m still not a champion at self-sacrifice, but I’m not afraid of it anymore. Because I know gifts are waiting for me wherever the Lord leads me. Gifts that nourish my spirit, and make me rich.

33 Teach me, Lord, the way of your decrees, that I may follow it to the end.
34 Give me understanding, so that I may keep your law and obey it with all my heart.
35 Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight.
36 Turn my heart toward your statutes and not toward selfish gain.

Psalm 119:33-36