The gifts we bring

I did the Christmas book haul from the library today; avoiding much of the tackier tomes but grabbing some low hanging fruit while keeping an eye on two toddlers. The girls and I dug through the new offerings tonight and settled on this book. Ezra Keats is one of my favorites anyways, but I didn't realize he had illustrated a version of The Little Drummer Boy. As it turns out, it is a gem in every way.

Come, they told me. Our newborn King to see.
Our finest gifts to bring to lay before the king,
So to honor Him when we come.
Baby Jesus, I am a poor boy too,
I have no gift to bring that's fit to give a king.
Shall I play for you?! On my drum?!
Mary nodded.
The ox and lamb kept time.
I played my drum for Him.
I played my best for Him, then He smiled at me.....me and my drum

I was unprepared for the poignant message in a song I so often mumble through. I can just image a small boy wanting to play his drum, proudly offering his only gift and finding joy in the baby's smile. It struck me as the most inappropriate thing for a baby...a drum roll! But how many slimy rocks, twigs, mangled pieces of clay and rambling songs have I been offered with enthusiasm. And each inappropriate, worthless object offered, seems like pure joy coming from the extended hand of a child. Proudly offered to me in full assurance of the gift's happy receipt. Perhaps this is how the Lord sees our token gifts; the only thing we have, offered with the banging gusto of a poor drummer boy.