This post could also be titled “Last Minute Ideas for Frantic Mother’s Day Shoppers.” But I think better of you. Here are my three favorite inexpensive tools.
We Christians have always been good at line-drawing, and we are usually the ones who do it best. Or, if we dislike our upbringing, the ones who do it worst. The Catholics are too iconic, the Anglicans too liturgical, the black churches too emotive, the Quakers too quiet, the Methodists too formal, the Pentecostals too hyper, the Mennonites too traditional. Private worship is too individualistic, and public is too contrived or too showy. In the end, is there any good way to worship? that’s unlike what we are comfortable with?
If we dare to meet your eyes at this moment, it would help so much if we could see in them that you respect us – not because of what we’ve done or left undone, but because we are fellow humans going through the worst days of our lives. If you think we don’t care, or don’t feel, or don’t know this, you are wrong. We really, really messed up; and we do not expect to find mercy in this place.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not have needs
He maketh me to be just fine, thank you, and I have it covered
What you said did not hurt me and what you did does not make me angry
But I have a friend you could pray for, she is really having a hard time…
Let’s say that the mister and missus are going outside to dig in the yard. Maybe she needs a new flowerbed, or maybe the septic system is acting up again. One of their two shovels is a little unwieldy; the other is the perfect size, strong and reliable, with a comfortable handle grip.
WHO GETS THE BETTER SHOVEL?
I am the light you cannot see, searching, piercing – not the mild sunlight of a summer day or the glimmer of candle and firelight, but the unescapable blaze of a streetlight on a deserted parking lot when all around is darkness.
I love you.
A gadget, according to Google, is “a small mechanical or electronic device or tool, especially an ingenious or novel one.” Here are three of my favorites.
Last night, I sat next to my father through a benefit auction. My kids scrambled and talked and fought around us. While I was turned toward my dad, my daughter fell off the chair on the other side of me…
Sometimes all your ideals fly out the window because it’s two a.m. and your baby will not settle, and you’ve already been out of bed six times, trying to shush her before she wakes her brother, but now it’s too late because he’s fussing too. And his bed is wet.
You may become an adult who knows how to draw wayward teenagers back toward love. You may become the kind-hearted grandma at church who asks to rock a colicky baby for his frazzled new mom. You may become the sort of person who walks toward difficult children instead of away from them.
My children’s virtue is a good aim. When my children’s virtue is about making me look good, I am in the wrong. From this posture I wrote, but with mixed and confusing motives. I could feel but not pinpoint them. I see there can be a heart that is proud of being broken, a heart that looks at the proud people and is so glad it is not like them.