Sewing long curtain panels together so that the tan stripes match up at the seams, addressing invitations, adding guests to the online list, remembering another kitchen gadget to add to the registry, making reception decorations, playing with hairstyles . . . .
When we sit at the table in front of the big window and open the Word, she tells me how she’s so good at being busy, no good at being still. And that’s me, too.
“You looked for much, and behold, it came to little. And when you brought it home, I blew it away. Why? declares the LORD of hosts. Because of my house that lies in ruins, while each of you busies himself with his own house.” –Haggai 1:9
She read this verse in her quiet time, was convicted by it, wrote it on a memory card, shared it with me. Ostensibly, I’m supposed to be the teacher, but, oh! I am also being taught.
“The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down.” –Proverbs 14:1
And what am I building? What tearing down? Do I busy myself with many things and yet neglect the one thing needful? (Luke 10:41-42)
Do I take the time to dig through all the shifting sands of preferences and kitchen shelving to find the rock on which the wise man builds his house? The Rock on which a house may stand firm when the rains descend and the floods come and the winds blow and burst against that house? (Matthew 7:24-27)
Because I may be sure of rain and floods and wind, but more sure than all these is my Rock and my Salvation, Christ, the stumbling-block made chief cornerstone.
Oh Father, let me be founded here and nowhere else.
©2015 by Stacy Nott
Between Blue Rocks 
Another word lover and writer coming to our family. Great!!
Much love to you and Jake. We really like the window picture. I have received a book from my brother about Arcadia. Can’t wait for you to see it . Grandmother Betty
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🙂
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Stacy, I also remember the moment when I realized I could not put my faith in what is man made. My lesson happened as a potter. Like the tower of Babel I was going to hand build a very large pot using clay that I had dug myself from a clay pit in Carrol County, beautiful, smooth clay that would fire out a pure white. Slow was the progress and tedious as it grew, one coil at a time. The base must be strong enough to hold the weight and must harden to a degree but still be pliable enough to add fresh clay each day. It was growing in height and I was swelling in pride at my accomplishment. I walked into the pottery department to find all my fellow students in my corner, thinking they were impressed with my achievement, until I walked up and found the pot collapsed in upon itself. It was obvious the lesson God was teaching me, as well as my wise teacher who had warned me. Some things have to be learned from experience as my lesson.
You are building a strong base in which to build your home and your life with Jake, putting your faith in the place and hands to whom you belong. And I still love reading your words, they are wise and beautiful and always give me pause =
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This comment should have been its own blog post — beautiful! Thank you for the encouragement.
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