Broken Alabaster Boxes

Life. A vapor.  Slipping as sand, Thro the hour glass of life.  Slipping and sliding, Cascading thro the narrow opening of seconds and minutes and hours. Tho slow it may seem, One thing is constant.  It is forever moving.  One day the last grain of sand will slide thro the narrow opening.  One day the time for that hour glass will be done.  One day that will be me.  Sometimes I try to catch the sand as it slides thro.  Sometimes I try to reclaim the sand that has already passed. And sometimes in frantic haste I clutch and grab and pant to preserve.  All is futile.  All without hope.  The only choice I have that truly brings hope, Is to give that hour glass to Him.  To take this vessel I have, Only one, And place it the hands of the Maker. To take my grains of sand, This moment, This child, This task, And by the grace of God, ...

The evening air blows cooler as the sun slides towards the horizon. The moderation in temperature is welcome, tho slight. Everything from the waving palms to the people walking the roads look relieved for the coolness. And I feel the same relief. The days have been cooler now with the rain. It comes down in sheets, drenching any, even with an umbrella. The children come to school in hoodies and wet shoes and complain about the coldness. In reality it's still 75 or 80. Games are played indoors at recess, the rain driving hard against the roof, and sometimes dripping from leaks. It's been good to be busy again. When I first arrived, time tended to drag. I had less to do, and I didn't know many people. But as I have gotten out in the community that has changed. This past week has been particularly busy,  with something scheduled every night. The days are filled with school and other duties, the evenings mostly with church or ministry oriented things. Other weeks our ...

The drumming of a passing shower. Crickets every night outside my window.  Children calling to each other as they walk the road.  Bussing, jammed together, music throbbing, people calling to each other.  The evening sky, clouds tinted pink and the moon emerging.  The harbor at sunset.  Faces of friends looking up into our windows, seeing if we are home.  Sitting on our steps, watching people walk by.  School children singing. Calling greetings on Sunday afternoon walks. The bizarre that happens. Cool breeze in evening.