Friday, April 1, 2011


In the workshop, I do the same exact thing every day. I smell the same smells, touch the same materials, build the same projects, eat the same the same bench...

...and I wonder...

...does it matter?

Does it matter if I work feverishly towards the same goal, daily, with little result? One step forward, two steps back? Would anyone notice if I cut corners and used glue instead of nails?

In the saw dust, my Father's steps are beside me. I know that through every project He has been there guiding me. But I grow tired, and weak. I don't like the way my back aches, how exhausted I feel when the job is only halfway done. I really wish He would just finish it for me. He already knows how to do it...

...why must I always have to practice, practice, practice?

Splinters are annoying. I never learn, so I keep getting them. I forget to sand off the edges. I don't listen to my Father's words. I think I can smooth it out later; rush...

...yet, always...splinters.

I hold out my hand. He sees the flecks embedded in my flesh. I flinch, because I know what comes next...

...pain. Yet, He is so gentle.

We talk. We converse while the splinters are being pulled, and He asks, no PLEADS for me to come to Him BEFORE I am pricked, bruised, and injured. He loves our conversations, yet I choose to sit in solitude...

...because I rush.

Yet He just IS. Unmoving.

I move. I hurry. I count minutes.Work, work, work!


I close my eyes, and a soft wind sweeps through the cracks in the walls, and I feel it. The wood pile is warm in the sun, and I smell it...sweet. A bird trills, and I can almost feel the power of its wings. The back gate is whacking against the crooked fence, dancing to Summer. Sunflowers bend their heads, as I turn my attention to the window. Bees are buzzing, in search for honey. They are going about their business, not bothered by the confines of time. I reach for my lunch...

...and sit...

...and taste it.

...because I stopped.

My stool is next to my Father's. We work side-by-side. Right now, we are not working...

...we are talking. And laughter fills the workshop.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Philippians 4:6
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

 Psalm 46:10 (b)
"Be still, and know that I am God."

Until next time,

The Carpenter's Daughter


  1. Beautiful, just beautiful Layla!

  2. Hi Layla! Finally made it up here to read your blog! You're writing is beautiful~ Have you ever thought of writing a book called "The Carpenter's Daughter"? I think it would be amazing and beautiful~ I've got some ideas to inspire :) I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!!!!

    Pastor Kim

  3. I “followed” you last week on twitter, you were kind enough to follow me back. Thank you.

    And I heart your words. I am assuming you are a carpenter? Or is this all an analogy. The way you write it makes me think you’re a carpenter. And HIS daughter. I enjoyed the reading - - the work, the no cutting of corners, the splinters – how much of Our Lord’s background shared.

    Thank you for this,
    God Bless and keep you and all of yours

  4. @Brownie

    Wow! Thank you for the encouragement, friends. I just love being in the workshop with all of you! :)

    Pastor Kim...I am all ears. <3