Recently, in our household, we have lost a potholder. It is one of a pair of them, blue.. and I have no idea where it might be....
So, before you start wondering if blogging has reach new levels of the inane, let me get to the point. My son Logan, whilst making corn dogs, was bemoaning the fact that this potholder was missing; sensing that there was something deeper than his normal level of 'life hysteria' behind this, I asked him why he seemed so concerned about it.
His reply? "Dad, we've had those 2 potholders as long as I can remember, maybe my whole life." It struck me that Logan, like his Dad, finds comfort in some things remaining as touchstones in our lives. In a world of constant change, these touchstones are the threads that run throughout the tapestry, that give us links to past, present and future.
When I was growing up, for various reasons my family moved around quite a bit. By the time I was in college, I had calculated I had known 21 different residences in 20 years. I had no 'hometown', per se. I once tried to sit down and think if there was something that had never changed in my life, some detail that was an unfailing constant.
And there was-- my grandparents' address in Colorado City, TX. Granted, they did not live there for their whole adult lives... but in my living memory, their little yellow home was the one thing that was always there. And I found enormous comfort in that fact. I loved spending time with them and at their home, and even as an adult, I found it to be a place of refuge and rest.. something about the pace of life in their little town provided me with a much needed respite from the hurly-burly of my normal existence. I often would come in right after arriving in town, recline on the couch while everyone enjoyed the first round of conversations, and be asleep in minutes.
But it was more than just the small town pace... it was also the comfort of being in that one place. I remember when I once shared this with my Grandmother... it made her so proud that her home was such a place for me.
And that is what my son Logan was astute enough to realize. That a mere potholder, quite banal in most circumstances, was a form of lifelong constancy for him... and he mourned the loss of that touchstone.
What are the threads of the tapestry of your life that run from one border to the ongoing edge of the loom? What things or places or people in your life are proof to you of God's Providence and constant presence and concern over our lives?
What, to you, provides the Power of the Same?
So, before you start wondering if blogging has reach new levels of the inane, let me get to the point. My son Logan, whilst making corn dogs, was bemoaning the fact that this potholder was missing; sensing that there was something deeper than his normal level of 'life hysteria' behind this, I asked him why he seemed so concerned about it.
His reply? "Dad, we've had those 2 potholders as long as I can remember, maybe my whole life." It struck me that Logan, like his Dad, finds comfort in some things remaining as touchstones in our lives. In a world of constant change, these touchstones are the threads that run throughout the tapestry, that give us links to past, present and future.
When I was growing up, for various reasons my family moved around quite a bit. By the time I was in college, I had calculated I had known 21 different residences in 20 years. I had no 'hometown', per se. I once tried to sit down and think if there was something that had never changed in my life, some detail that was an unfailing constant.
And there was-- my grandparents' address in Colorado City, TX. Granted, they did not live there for their whole adult lives... but in my living memory, their little yellow home was the one thing that was always there. And I found enormous comfort in that fact. I loved spending time with them and at their home, and even as an adult, I found it to be a place of refuge and rest.. something about the pace of life in their little town provided me with a much needed respite from the hurly-burly of my normal existence. I often would come in right after arriving in town, recline on the couch while everyone enjoyed the first round of conversations, and be asleep in minutes.
But it was more than just the small town pace... it was also the comfort of being in that one place. I remember when I once shared this with my Grandmother... it made her so proud that her home was such a place for me.
And that is what my son Logan was astute enough to realize. That a mere potholder, quite banal in most circumstances, was a form of lifelong constancy for him... and he mourned the loss of that touchstone.
What are the threads of the tapestry of your life that run from one border to the ongoing edge of the loom? What things or places or people in your life are proof to you of God's Providence and constant presence and concern over our lives?
What, to you, provides the Power of the Same?
