i drive back into my city.  detroit.  fresh from ohio.  fresh from the farms and the fields of the drive from there to here.  from the fresh air to the incinerator.  from the church of thousands to the church waiting to begin.

it’s about time to start.

my girls sprawl on blankets and pillows and i build a fire.  the snow has melted from the night before and our snow shovel was stolen off our front porch.  i don’t care at all.  when you’re priviledged, you don’t even know you’re priviledged.  i can buy a new shovel.  i can buy two and leave another one out front for the next person who maybe can’t this winter.

i don’t care at all.

let’s just roll up our sleeves today.  let’s get down to the hard work of trying to love.  this is going to hurt, but what else are we going to do?

we have all the time given to us to try.

gratitude list ~ one thousand gifts ~ 1207 – 1222

chris making breakfast
talking with jay
church planting solved!
phone calls home to happy kids
new books
dinner with steve
talking black and white church
insoo kim
going first
jeni’s ice cream
learning the soundboard
prayers for courage
being desperate
listening to the spirit of god

3 replies on “ columbus ”
  1. when i lived in corktown, i had a two-seated wicker satee. everytime i put a blanket on it, the next morning it would be gone… i say, “someone really needed it for warmth”. i used to put shoes out at the curb in the winter too since i saw homeless people walking in the snow with no shoes.

    alyson x

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