Thursday, October 25, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The silver beard was wet with tears,
As cloudy eyes looked up in grateful praise,
The father who through lonely years
Had waited for this, the day of days.
The father knelt in a dusty path,
Clutched a sobbing, filthy vagabond against his breast,
The boy had come expecting wrath,
He should have known his father loved him best.
The only thing the boy had brought
When he had gone out full of wealth and pride
Was a broken heart, repentance wrought,
But this heart his father could not have deigned.
To be loved so well by One so great,
Love that waits, and grieves through long nights alone,
Love that is patient, will never abate
Waiting, ready to forgive the lost and erring son
Thank you Father for waiting for me,
Thank you for waiting though rebellion and strife,
Hating the sin, but wanting me free,
To love you again, to serve you with my life.
Father, take me and use me I plead,
The least in Your house is more than I can ask,
For I am famished, poor and in need,
Let me please come home, give me the lowest task.
What is this robe? This ring?
This celebration? Am I forgiven? Is it true?
I’ll never ever cease to sing,
I‘ll always serve, and praise, and honor You!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
I love Jalapeño Potato Chips. The ones you get in the United States are BLAH, but here, there is this zing, and a nose-tingling spicy bite as well. I gain four ounces every time I think about them. We were surprised to find little beggars at our ankles every time we break open a pack. Never ones to withhold goodness from our children, we have kids who will sit happily with tear-filled eyes eating spicy salsa, chips, or Mexican chili candy. (On a side note, why is it "too spicy, Mommy!" when it's something they don't like???)
My husband will come in with a bag he bought and tourture us for several days not eating it, and not letting us eat it, because it's his. Then he will open it, and contend with four beggers and one wife who will not beg, but sneaks a longing look at the bag periodically. He usually leaves a little over half the bag for us-he's generous.
One day a little more than a year ago, he was not feeling generous for some reason. there was the green potato chip bag sitting at his desk, half eaten. My mouth began to water as he was getting ready to go out and work with someone, but the last thing he said to me was, "Don't touch my potato chips!" Then he left. I'm not sure what possessed him to do something so cruel, as he's not normally a mean person, but you know, we all have our bad days. So I went about my day, determined to ignore the salivating I experienced every time I looked at that open bag of chips.
I guess I was not the only one. Becca is four now, but at this time, she was only two and a half. She was already trying out ways to manipulate us. Suddenly she came running in to where I was, panting effectively, eyes wide. She said, "I scaowed Mommy!" (scared, for those not fluent in toddlerish.) She had no solid reason for being "scaowed", no unusual noises, nothing going on, and finally I asked her, after much fruitless searching for the cause of her fear, "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I want Daddy!"
"Well, Daddy's not here right now, but he'll be back tonight." Here I was thinking, Aw, that's so cute, she wants her Daddy.
"I could eat Daddy's chips!"
I was a little stunned at this, then gave a shout of laughter, which broke down her little game. She was ready to go for broke. She gave me a hug looked at me earnestly, and said, "Mommy, we could shaow!"