Worn Well Till Well Worn

So I have this pair of shoes. The kind that everybody hopefully has. They are special. These shoes have taken me to amazing places. They've carried me down the halls at work and through the doors to worship. They have stood in the rain and stuck to the floor of a grungy pub. I was thinking about my shoes today as I looked them over and realized that they are wearing out. They have a bit of a hole forming in the sole and I'm afraid I don't have much time left with them. Seems like a bit of a strange thing to feel sadness over although I would bet that more of you have been sad about shoes than care to admit it. Here's the strange thing though. When I think about these shoes, they mean something more to me than just footwear.

I've been thinking lately and the issue of my role has weighed pretty heavily on my mind. Where do I fit and what does that look like at work, at church, at home, serving others and in relationship with my wife, kids, family, and friends. Those shoes, in large part reflect who I am or at least who I want to be. I don't want to be the fancy pair of dress shoes, pulled out only for special occasions and removed as quickly as possible due to the phenomenal blisters forming. I don't want to be the casual loafer that's good for semi important events but can just as easily be out of place and useless if something messy comes up. These shoes can go anywhere and even if they might look out of place in the spotlight, they are invaluable to the guy doing work in the background no matter how fancy the occasion.

One other thing about these shoes. They are made from junk. Someone took old pieces of recycled paper, recycled wool, and recycled carpet padding, and pieced these shoes together as a way of reusing the stuff. The soles are literally made of old bald tires. I feel a bit of kinship in this too. I feel like I've been gradually pieced together using some stuff that if left on it's own wouldn't really be of much use and probably thrown away, but pieced together can become something loved and useful. That seems to be the way God works usually in fact. He takes something that is profoundly broken and knits together something remarkable. I'm somewhere in the middle of the production line right now but I can't wait to see what the finished product will look like.

He's There

He's there, hidden in plain sight. In the smile of a new bride as she walks with her new husband, in the face of a little boy dressed as a surgeon holding tightly to his mother as the music plays. He's in the lifted hands of the kindly old man four rows up and in the crystal clear sound of truth being spoken in the still air of a quiet chapel. He's in the flickering of a candle and in the piece of often dry bread, dipped in wine from a box. He's there when I hope he's not. He's there when my heart is hard and when it's broken. He's there in the mundane actions of life, and he's there for all the profound experiences. He's even there when I somehow can't find him. Where can I go to escape him? He's there. He's always there.

I think I hurt my hip while wrestling!

Hurting, confused, frustrated, discouraged, all might be words to describe me today. I've been thrashing about trying to find that one thing that seems to be right. That place that I can go and just know with perfect peace that I'm in the right spot. I know people who have that place, allegedly anyway. I don't. I don't know what it would look like if I did and frankly I just might hate it once I found it. Maybe in some sadistic way I enjoy this feeling. Every time I think I might have found it, it gets yanked out from under me. I just know I hate the way life looks right now. Not everything in life. I have plenty about my life that I enjoy and that I'm thankful for. I wish I had some profound way to tie all this together but I don't. This just means that as much as I hate leaving things unresolved, that feeling is the truth right now and anything else would be a lie.

Viva Viagra!

Parenting a three year old is an interesting experience. Life takes on a serious dichotomy of cute and troubling. For instance, hearing my son Ian quote the commercial that says the difference is drinkability is pretty cute. I know some people might be troubled by that but I think it's funny. What is troubling is hearing him quote other commercials that he has heard and suddenly you have a three year old talking about having an erection. From cute to troubling in .3 seconds. I realize, it's not such a huge thing, he doesn't know what he is saying but even so, the teachers in the nursery at church sure will. :-) It definitely makes me conscious though because he hears and imitates everything. Pretty much anything he says at this point is an imitation of something he has heard someone else say or do. Not even just words but the way things are said. He watches Amanda and me fight, laugh, talk, criticise, love, hate, not talk, curse, sing or whatever. This is a giant load of pressure. I want to help shape him into who he is meant to be, not into some angry, foul human. The key there is help because somehow, in spite of me and all my screw ups, Ian and Gavyn are not in my hands. I have to somehow give them every day to someone who has no flaws and I'm thankful that I am trusting Him to shape them in all the ways that I can't. May Christ guide my hands and guard my tongue and may he protect them when I won't let him guide me.