Our battered, bruised four leaf clover

(A disclaimer: We're not big believers in luck or good fortune--we choose to put our faith in our heavenly Father who we know with certainty cares for us in more ways than we can fathom. But this was a unique day.)

Remember the amaryllis blooming in the darkest winter of our lives? Or the budding victory rose Jeff left on my desk? Our tiny, battered, four-leaf clover belongs to that family.

As Jeff and I sat outside the Millbrook winery, sipping a delicious Chardonnay by the pond, musing about our lives, I idly began a search for an elusive four-leaf clover. There was no reason for my hunt; I merely needed a distraction for my fingers. But, despite that, just moments into my hunt, I discovered the treasure pictured at the bottom of this post.

Our four-leaf clover isn't perfect, but it's the only one we've ever had. Our four-leaf clover is a little worse for the wear, but so are we. Our four-leaf clover offers a kind of hope that is bathed in reality, and that's the only kind of hope we know or desire anymore.

We choose to believe in and hold onto such a joyful symbol that we feel certain fell into our hands by the grace of the only One who can rain blessings on us.