You can always find someone building something. It is entrepreneurial, visionary, forward-moving work. I walked through new-builds in Georgia as we tried to locate a new place to live. They were clean, empty shells, almost sterile with their unused history. However, I can assure you that the building process was messy. If you have ever tackled a renovation project, you know. Dust everywhere. Tools and equipment strewn. It makes even the hearty wonder if it is worth it.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes3:1, NIV Every time I read this verse, it catches me because it seems I always run out of time. The day shortchanges me. No matter how carefully I plan, something takes longer than I expected, something interrupts my rhythm, sets me back, and frustrates me. But what if I am not supposed to be as much in charge of my time as I thought? What if I am not the keeper of my time but a serva
Fall has lingered as an extended visitor. Leaves still fleck the trees in mosaics of gold, red, peach, and rust. Even the recent wind storm couldn’t shake them from their stubborn hold. For me, as my wind storm has swept me empty and clouds still hover to darken my days, the ecstatic color of this fall soothes and steadies me. Often I have turned to the seasons to remind me of the rhythms of life, the getting and losing, the tearing and mending, the planting and harvest. I