From the Side Of A Square

People.

 

I'm moving my blog.  I was thinking about it anyway, because well...I just was, but now, with the random, inappropriate, sometimes Chinese comments being left on my blog, I have been persuaded to make the move.  Here's my new link.  I'll be contacting the bloggers on the right to let them know about the change.

 

 

I haven't gotten far enough to get my fellow bloggers listed yet.  Wordpress is a bit tougher to navigate, but I'm getting there.  To my faithful readers who are good and nice people, thanks for reading.  I hope you follow me over to my new home.

 

To the yucky, pornhead, chinese advertisers, PHHHHHHHT.  You're stupidheads. 

People I don't know are posting inappropriate things on my blog.  It's happened twice now, and I'm starting to get nervous.  I'm thinking about moving my blog.  More details coming.

Sarah just came in my room and asked me if I liked the lamps I had on the bedside tables.  I told her that yes, I liked my lamps.  I asked her if she liked my lamps, and she said that she didn't like my lamps now, but maybe when she gets old she'll like them.

Every day,  I pick up Sarah from her elementary school, and the two of us drive to the middle school and wait for Jenna.  During that 15-20 minutes, we sit and talk about this and that.  We never talk about anything profound, but the time has always meant something to me.  Today, she leaned forward and touched my hand, which was resting on the console in the middle of the seats.  "I can feel your veins." she said, as she pressed the top of my stubby, dry, and wrinkly hand, squishing my veins with her index finger.

 

I told her how I used to do the same thing to my grandma Eva.  She was a willowy woman, whose hands were soft, and much thinner than mine.  Her veins stuck up so much that I could grab them and push them around.  My grandma would always let me squish her veins when I came to visit.  Who knows why I remember that, but it made me smile.

 

Anyway, Sarah held her hand against mine. 

 

I said:  "Look how young your hands are compared to mine." 

She said: "That's just because you're a mom." 

Me:  "You and Jenna have pretty hands.  I've never had pretty hands. But, you know what the cool thing

           is about my hands?"

Sarah:  "what?"

Me:  "Well, how has God used my hands?"

Sarah:  "to do things?"

Me:  "Yes, to do things.  One thing that I think is pretty cool is that God has used my hands to make music

           for His glory.  I have short, stubby, arthritic fingers, that haven't had much training, but God saw fit

           to use them for His service.  That seems to be how He works.  He takes the most unlikely people

           and puts them into service for His kingdom."

Sarah:  "mmmhmm.....pause......Well, if my hands don't look like your hands, then do they look like Dad's?"

Me:     "No, they don't look like Dad's.  I don't know whose hands you have."

Sarah:  "Well, I know I don't have Dad's feet.  He has weird feet."

Me:  "Yes, Dad has very weird feet, with that long-old second toe."

 

And then, we were off on a five minute discussion about Dad's weird feet. 

 

Who knows if Sarah got anything spiritual about out of that conversation, but it was a nice moment for me.  It was a moment where God reminded me of His mysterious, illogical ways of bringing glory to His name.  I'm grateful that He's taken an ill-trained, small handed,  no-talent housewife to be a part of the music ministry at a church.  He has blessed me with a deeper understanding of Himself in the past 14 years.  He has blessed me by using me to meet a need in our local body.  He has blessed me by allowing me to learn more about something that I've loved since I was a young child.  It is by His grace that my undersized, inflexible fingers move, and that my heart beats to express myself musically.    Who knows what He has planned for me in the future regarding music, but for today, I'm grateful for the way He has used my hands.

 

 

But, I won't do that. 

But, I sure want to do that.