Why patch up a ragged old life when you could have an all-new one?
Jesus also told them a parable: “No one tears a piece from a new garment and puts it on an old garment. If he does, he will tear the new, and the piece from the new will not match the old.” (Luke 5:36)
What is it about our familiar old rags that makes them so hard to part with?
I recently interviewed a man whose siblings have birth defects. What, I asked, would he tell expectant parents who have just learned their coming child may be born with defects? What if that’s not what they had planned?
He replied, “I don’t know anyone who can say that their life is what they planned.”
I’ve been pondering that remark ever since. How many of us live lives we didn’t plan? Continue reading
“There was a landowner who planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a winepress in it and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers…” (Matthew 21:33, NIV)
Why does Jesus of Nazareth launch His brief parable with so much technical detail? Perhaps the Master Storyteller, keenly aware of His audience, knew that the set-up was essential. “This must be distinctly understood,” as Charles Dickens said in one of his famous introductions, “or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.”
Someone’s doing something good. Right here in rural Minnesota. This is a story in progress. Hope is forging ahead.
If you remember my post about Janine Kramer, founder of Olivia’s House of Hope, you’ll be excited to know the House is moving forward toward its goal of supporting women in transition to a better life.
Thursday, January 19, 2017, their Open House runs from 9:00am to 5:00pm, at 212 26th Street South in Olivia, Minnesota. I intend to go see how far they’ve come.
Interested? Learn more about the event on their Facebook page.
And thank God there is a whole lot of hope for women ready to leave the past behind.
This was the year of the empty nest.
Our fifth and last child graduated from high school and flew off to college. No longer do dancing feet shake the bedroom over the kitchen. No more excuses to make pizza more than once a week. Half the laundry, half the groceries. (I’m tempted to say “half the fun,” too, but that’s not true. Being best friends with my husband means we have no trouble having fun.)
In fact, I’m finding that an empty nest is a nest with room. Continue reading
I have told stories of brave people doing good in the face of great evil.
I have told stories of people with transformed lives who are passing on the transformation.
But lately I have been silent. Not that there haven’t been good stories to tell. But some of the stories I have watched taking place—with fallout that’s still falling—have been so sad, so disappointing, that I have laid my storytelling pen down for a time.
Now I think I can talk about the story that makes me cry.
Every Sunday morning, my little friend hops into the front seat of my van. She talks rapid-fire as she buckles her seat belt. Her pink cowboy boots swing back and forth a few inches above the floor.
Then she tells me where to drive. We’ll be picking up other children she has invited—or is about to invite—to Sunday School. I never know who they will be.
This girl is amazing. Resilient and affectionate, she really “gets” the kids in her neighborhood. She gets the chaos, the unpredictability, the hidden hurts, and the joys that fill lives so much like her own. And she gets that in lives like hers, Jesus makes all the difference.
So she wants everyone to know Him.
She invites. All I have to do is drive.
Well, that and teach the squirmy, precious, crazy, delightful gaggle of kiddos who end up in my class. Continue reading