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Thursday, January 30, 2014

My House

My House is mine.
I choose what comes in.
I choose what goes out.
I choose how often I lift the shades
And to what degree I will let the Light in.

My House is mine.
I choose how often I get it Cleaned--
If at all.
I choose who's feet may come into my territory.
-If any at all.
I choose who will see more than just my front porch.

My House is mine.
It is a safe space with freedom to move.
I am free to dance. Free to sing. I am free to be still and do nothing at all.
There is no guilt, shame or questioning.

My house is mine.
Mine to dwell happily in.
And mine to invite Love in and let Him make my house

His Home.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Foolish Love

My daughter has a knack for taking odd things she sees outside and treating them like she just found treasure.  An old bottle cap.  A muddy rock in a dirty puddle.  A dead tree branch.  A piece of trash lying on the side of the road.  Stuff that no one else wants, thinks about, or even cares about.  She picks them up and holds them tight until she's able to bring them inside and take them to the sink.  There, she scrubs them until they are practically sanded to death!  (My kitchen floor gets quite a washing, too, as the water overflows! ;)
 
From there, they either get displayed somewhere in the house or are used for a special purpose in her playtime.  Some items become props for her dramas.  Some become art projects.  Some end up on my dresser as a heartfelt gift to me.
 
I can't help but think that she sees something that I don't.  I shake my head as I watch her 'foolishly waste' our soap to wash trash or a dead tree.  Why would she do that?  Who would go through so much trouble?  But, what she sees is not what is presented, but what she will make it.  She sees the treasure inside the trash.  She sees the life inside the death.  She sees what SHE is able to make it, not what is originally offered to her.
 
What she is doing is showing me the heart of God and how He 'senselessly loves us'.  Why would God show so much attention to such a person like me?  Why would He even think to leave Heaven, come as a man, and die on a cross?  Who would 'foolishly' give His life?  What kind of Person would take a muddy rock like me and even care to wash it?  Who would care enough to pick up the dead branches of my life and breathe into them again? 
 
Jesus would.
 
He 'foolishly' loves us like that.  He sees the treasure.  He sees what HE is able to make it -- not what is originally offered.