I wonder why He keeps handing me tools?
I am in no way equipped for this.
I just stand here, dazed,
wondering if my smaller hands are even capable of holding onto the curved handle.
His hands are so much bigger...
...stronger.
I have absolutely no experience, aside from making messes.
As the wood curls and twists...
...I feel His heart embrace mine...
...blowing away the splintered fragments.
He inlays His fibers within my soul.
He invites me to work by His side, so
I accept the tools, clumsy and cold in my hands.
I wait for His gentle direction.
He shows me the art of smoothing out roughness, forming something uniquely me...
...and all Him.
Somethings must be curled up and blown away.
It is how the Carpenter carves Himself into His Creation.
To be workable, I must be willing to pick up the tools,
despite uncertainty, clumsiness,
or risk.
The work handle only grows warm when the hand is on it, and the job is being done.
He blows dust from the table.
I trace the faded colors left behind from lessons past.
The stains of what was.
The promise of what is to come.
Someday, my feeble attempts will be smoothed out, and the work will be finished.
I wait with quiet wonder at what lies ahead.
The projects will not cease until He puts the tools away.
He works on me.
I work with Him.
What joy it is
to be fashioned by the Master! May all the world know they have been crafted by those hands.
There is not one breathing who isn't seen, or heard, or known.
Or precious in His eyes.
While we (His children) are being sanded and smoothed,
He is inviting us to help Him mend the broken woodwork of humanity.
We are called to love Him first.
Then we are compelled to love in return.
There are plenty of tools.
Will you join us in the workshop?
