Vitamin Dust

It is time
to wash our van.
The grime, in layers stands.
The poor rig - it's traveled
many
long
miles
from where its once began,
and surely longs to be clean.

But see, this dust, right here?
It is treasured dust,
dirt from whence we came;
and in the evening light
I've watched it fade
and sparkle
and gleam
like a thousand flecks of gold.

And oh, dear, how I fear
the day that gold dust goes!

It's like a blanket -
securely ensconsing this trip
in the wonderful cloak of the past.

But ...it is time.

Soon, soon, I'll wash this van,
and our dusty, dingy
ride will shine
with the taunting red gleam
of the untraveled roads
left to find.

Vitamin Seek

"I do not seek yours, but you." - 2 Corinthians 12:14

"Who wants to help me cook dinner?" It's a common enough question around my house, and the response is just as predictable.

"Me! Me! Me!" From three separate corners of the house, three eager voices chime in, anxious to be the first to win the coveted spot on the stool next to Mommy. It's glorious to feel so wanted ... to know how much my children long to help me.

But soon their other motivation shines through.

"Do you see that white stuff there on the counter?" my three year old asks as soon as she's suited up in an apron and handed the appropriate mixing spoon. Busy with my recipe, I nod. It's probably flour - maybe sugar. I've forgotten what's always comes next.

"Well, can I lick it up?" my daughter asks. Her eyes are shining. She's positive that the mystery substance will be the reward she was seeking when she volunteered to be my helper in the first place.

I stop work and gaze at her momentarily, caught for a second by the poignancy of her simple, yet ardent, desire for this 'treat' - placed, as it is, next to what should have been treat enough, getting to work next to Mom. I'm immediately pricked by the strong similarity between she, my precious and transparent child, and me, God's own treat-seeking, double-minded daughter

Work with Me, He says sweetly, each day. I've a wonderful project to share!

Oh yes! I respond, fooling myself that time wiht Him is all I desire. But as soon as the real work begins, I'm distracted by the ingredients He chooses. Can I have some of that? I ask, pointing to a particulary delectable blessing. And that? And that? And that? Standing side by side as He works, we're sharing space and time in what should be the most amicable of all possible settings - creating a good thing together. However, the beauty of such closeness - the joy and privilege of being intimately connected to any project set out by my Lord - is not fully evident to my eyes. I'm glazed over. Staring at the bounty before me, I overlook the greater Bounty at my side.

How often does this scenario play itself out? In my home, often daily. In my life, I don't know. But praise my great Parent! He never seems to tire of asking, "Will you join Me?" -- and that gives me plenty of chances to remember to get it right. The ingredients in each of His creations are important, for sure. But time with my Father, the Creator is worth more than them all put together. That's what I hope to seek the next time He asks me to join Him. That's where the real reward lies.

There

the candle breathes

upon a lowly table.

It's light opens, softens

warms the room in which

it sits.

This light, I'm drawn to it

Drawn in it as a new creation:

One softer, warmer, visible only

in the subtle illumintations it brings.

There

the lightbulb shines -

A mechanical thing, for sure.

It's light as well, though:

Brighter, piercing, clean.

It lets nothing hide.

It casts all 'soft' away.

And yet, it is light.

Some prefer that type of light.

To judge would be undoing.

For truly, either of these brights

Will fade, if daylight's wooing.

Vitamin Worship

Worship - I

Perform it in so many ways.

Work is worship - when done right.

Sleep is worship, too.

Tears are worship, in the night

Or shed with thoughts of You.

Song is worship. Dance as well.

Speaking. Silence. Prayer.

Food is worship. I must tell

That worship is my Air!

Vitamin Chris

You could have grown

an angry man

deep within your soul.

He could have grown

an angry you

and filled your heart all full

Of angry words

and angry thoughts

and angry actions, too.

Instead you've grown

into a large

and wiser, better you.

Thank you.

I love you.

-- your wife.