First Impressions

The Colors are here to install a fence around our pool. There are four...grey, black, orange and orange.

Grey has soot covered skin, a mop of dusty curls, dirt streaked clothes and light grey eyes. When he lights up a cigarette...which is often...he vanishes into a cloud of smoke. The kids call him Torchiere Man because he operates the welding torch. He appears to be a hard worker and skilled with dangerous power tools.

Black is in charge. He has black hair with grey at the temples, black eyes and a black mustache. He appears to have leadership qualities. He appears to be competent, conscientious and patient.

Orange and Orange are teen brothers. They could be twins. One an inch taller than the other. Both are stocky and muscular. They have bright orange hair and an orange complexion. They take turns working, drinking gatorade, sitting, spitting, yawning, and leaning. Occasionally they carry something heavy. Combined, they appear do the work of one man...maybe that's a stretch.

I can say that the fence is beautiful and sturdy for it is a tangible thing. I can say nothing more about The Colors because I do not know more. They have not revealed much of their characters, of what drives them, of their aspirations, of their triumphs and hurts as they measure and carry and and operate power tools. These things are hidden to a stranger though God sees into the heart of each one.

It's a comforting thought. God knows our ways...our thoughts...our habits. It's a scary thought, too. God knows our ways...our thoughts...our habits. Nothing is hidden from Him. Good or bad.

Jesus made an impression on everyone he met when he walked on this earth. They all misread him...including his own family. The only One who could see the big picture of what Jesus was up to was God. The same holds true for you and me. Everyone will come to inaccurate conclusions about us...including ourselves. The only One who sees our big picture is God. Freedom comes when we understand that His is the only opinion that matters.

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The Child's Story Bible

I have recommended the following book so frequently that I think a post is in order so that I may recommend it to the world. In the early nineteen hundreds, when my grandparents were growing from children to adults, when they were meeting and marrying and making ends meet during the Depression, Catherine F. Vos was at work. She had been out shopping, looking for the perfect children’s story bible. The Christian bookstores of the day must have had the same unsatisfactory fare for young children that they carry today. Her standards were high as she was the wife of a professor of theology and she could not find what she was looking for. So she started to write. The results of her writing, The Child’s Story Bible was first published in stages between the years of 1934-1936. It’s been republished in every decade since that time. My grandparents had my parents and they met and married and had me and somewhere along the way I acquired a Bible. I read from the book of Proverbs from time to t

A Sure Foundation

The kids and I have been nibbling our way through the book of Isaiah for months. It's our first venture as a family into the prophets. We wrestle with the message. It's a book for our times. Isaiah wrote to his people, the people of Judah, at the dawn of a long season of international turmoil. Assyria ran rough shod over the Middle East, followed in quick succession by Babylon, Persia and Greece. According to Isaiah, each empire was brought down because of they were quick to gloat over their achievements but failed to give God the time of day. The sin of haughty eyes he calls it. I brown the meat and simmer the stew and slice a crusty loaf of Italian bread but do not bow my head before I eat. It's the little red hen complex. I ground the wheat and kneaded the dough and sliced the carrots. I don't take into account that I didn't make the carrots or the wheat grow. I forget to be thankful that there are groceries in the pantry and healthy children around the table.

Finding Rest: Part Two (Scroll down three posts to read this story from the beginning)

Why share such a personal story ? I share it because I have talked to enough women to know that underneath the makeup and the matching outfits and the small talk that make up our exteriors, we are a broken people. To pretend otherwise creates isolation. Thoughtful honesty creates closer relationships and greater understanding. When we share the way God works in the difficult things of life it encourages first oneself and then others. For some of us, the pieces have been patched and restored and there is wholeness where there was none before. But some of us are walking wounded, barely hanging on and wondering if there is hope. We have a choice. We can either be completely shattered by bitterness, depression and anger or we can lay the fragments before the One who can take the sharp slivers and jagged pieces and create a beautiful, productive life. Here is the conclusion to John's story. When John was ten, he was sullen and moody and difficult and so was I. But I was no longer proud.

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