Giants and a Dot

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive, or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.” 

A considerable number of decades ago, I remember hearing those words at bedtime – because that is when we used to listen to the story of Jack and the Beanstalk. It is a miracle that I ever got a wink of sleep! But the fairy tale has become more than just the giant wishing to make bread out of a child. The adaptations over the years have made Jack into a ‘Robin Hood’ of his time as he steals (gold coins, a hen that lays golden eggs, and a golden harp that talks) from a Leviathan thief to alleviate the poverty of those living at the base of the beanstalk.

Easter Stories

Decades ago, I spent every waking moment as a Real Estate Broker. “Full-time job” does not come close to explaining what is required. Those who doubt can ask my daughter. Although this occupation gave me the flexibility I needed as a single parent, there were untold numbers of times when the cost of this flexibility was pointed directly in her direction. I can only say that I’m sorry.

But today is Easter Sunday and I have a story to tell.

I remembered an Easter sermon from several years ago. The details are a bit sketchy, but I believe that it went something like this.

Collecting Eggs

These pictures came to me as part of a church gathering for kids celebrating an egg hunt. What would we do without kids, right?

Anyway, the images caught my attention for two reasons.

1. I question the word, “hunt”.
2. I found a way to apply this event to my life.

When This Happens, I Stop Everything

I was thinking yesterday that I have nothing to write this week.  I confess to being a bit depleted.  The pandemic has isolated me as well as most of you.  The goal of these offerings is shortchanged for lack of environment. How can one ‘EXPLORE what it means to live in Christ’ when the only thing noticeable is the matted pathways of the worn-down living room carpet?  (Ok - I could probably make something out of that.  Another day, perhaps.)

Even though we are beginning to circulate more, it’s clearly not the same.  Public expeditions are stiff and uncomfortable.  We back-off rather than embrace. Hesitation conquers advancement.  Yesterday’s full-steam-ahead is vanquished as we now tread lightly. 

But, as often happens, something happens!  

You're In My Way

I just did something we do all the time.  I went grocery shopping.

Long work-weeks make us look forward to those two-in-a-row days to relax.  But, in most families, relaxation will take a back seat to life. Non-work hours are rare and sacred, but there is only so much available time to do the ‘domestic stuff’.

Today, exasperation seemed to rule. Everything took longer than it should.  Everything came with its own speed-bumps.  Nothing went as planned.

A person can’t help but ask, “Why does this always happen when we’re rushed for time?”

Invisible Walls

“It was the way of things.  Gage had seen it lots of times.  People lost interest quickly.  They lost interest even faster when there was no story to keep them hooked.  She was just a dead girl on a beach.  She could have been anybody, and if she wasn’t anybody, then she was a nobody.  It was hard to care about a nobody.  It was like trying to hang a picture on an invisible wall.’  The Grey and The Guilty Sea by Scott William Carter

It happens once in a while that something just sinks its teeth into me and says, “Pay attention”.  Then I’m faced with a choice.  Pay attention or don’t, try on the thoughts presenting themselves, or don’t.

Today, I’m paying attention.  A small paragraph in a book of fiction strikes again.

• “It’s the way of things.”
• “It was hard to care about a nobody.”
• “It was like trying to hang a picture on an invisible wall.”