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Covered in Writing
12 years ago
Monday, February 08, 2010
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Fashion Confession
I do not understand fashion very well. I refuse to believe that this is simply due to the fact that I am a hetero-sexual man. I think it is because fashion is sometimes non-sense.
For example, I briefly visited the Gap with my wife today, and I came face to face with my most hated fashion trend: worn-out clothing sold as new clothing.
Why on earth would you want to buy something that people purposefully wore out? Why not just buy something new and then use it until it is thread bare? By this same logic, I should go out and sell my 1990 Ford Ranger for a hefty sum. No one would do that. Better yet, why doesn't Chevrolet start building trucks with dents in them? And rusty holes?
If you want the luxury of "holey" clothing, just hang on to the ones you have long enough and you'll have them. My wife throws out my old clothes, and then we buy worn out ones? I live in a crazy world.
For example, I briefly visited the Gap with my wife today, and I came face to face with my most hated fashion trend: worn-out clothing sold as new clothing.
Why on earth would you want to buy something that people purposefully wore out? Why not just buy something new and then use it until it is thread bare? By this same logic, I should go out and sell my 1990 Ford Ranger for a hefty sum. No one would do that. Better yet, why doesn't Chevrolet start building trucks with dents in them? And rusty holes?
If you want the luxury of "holey" clothing, just hang on to the ones you have long enough and you'll have them. My wife throws out my old clothes, and then we buy worn out ones? I live in a crazy world.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Rebuked By a Five Year Old
I want to be a better father to my son. I failed to be the type of father that my heavenly Father would have me be this morning, and I am thankful that the Lord pointed this out to me in His ever kind and gentle way.
It is not unusual for my son to move like a slug in the morning while dressing for school. This morning was particularly rough for him. His mother told him to go and put on the pants she had gotten out for him, which he went to do with a little bit of whining. I looked in to check on him, and the boy was putting his pants on over his pajama bottoms.
He was already in hot water for back-talking his mothing, so he had one strike against him. When I told him to take off his pajamas first and then put on his pants, he dared to "huff" at me. This earned him a quick measure of justice to the backside which I immediately regretted because my attitude was sinful.
So, on the way to take him to his pre-school, I told him that I was sorry that I had gotten so angry. I told him that I wanted very much for him to see Jesus in me, and that my anger was not very Christ-like. So I said I was sorry again, and that I would try harder to be like Jesus.
My son looked at me and smiled. Then he he took on a serious look and said, "Papa, I know you want to be like Jesus. But you can't. Papa, you can't be like Jesus."
I was shocked. Of course, he was exactly right. Spot on right. Magnificently, convictingly, and to my everlasting shame, he was correct. I wanted to probe a little more to see what he meant.
I told him he was exactly right. Then I asked him what he thought about me that was most unlike Jesus. He looked at me and said, "Well, papa, you can't cook very good."
I blinked. Then I laughed and said incredulously, "Son, what makes you think Jesus was a good cook?"
He answered as if he were the one instructing a five year old, "Papa, Jesus can do all things."
Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. (Matthew 11:25)
It is not unusual for my son to move like a slug in the morning while dressing for school. This morning was particularly rough for him. His mother told him to go and put on the pants she had gotten out for him, which he went to do with a little bit of whining. I looked in to check on him, and the boy was putting his pants on over his pajama bottoms.
He was already in hot water for back-talking his mothing, so he had one strike against him. When I told him to take off his pajamas first and then put on his pants, he dared to "huff" at me. This earned him a quick measure of justice to the backside which I immediately regretted because my attitude was sinful.
So, on the way to take him to his pre-school, I told him that I was sorry that I had gotten so angry. I told him that I wanted very much for him to see Jesus in me, and that my anger was not very Christ-like. So I said I was sorry again, and that I would try harder to be like Jesus.
My son looked at me and smiled. Then he he took on a serious look and said, "Papa, I know you want to be like Jesus. But you can't. Papa, you can't be like Jesus."
I was shocked. Of course, he was exactly right. Spot on right. Magnificently, convictingly, and to my everlasting shame, he was correct. I wanted to probe a little more to see what he meant.
I told him he was exactly right. Then I asked him what he thought about me that was most unlike Jesus. He looked at me and said, "Well, papa, you can't cook very good."
I blinked. Then I laughed and said incredulously, "Son, what makes you think Jesus was a good cook?"
He answered as if he were the one instructing a five year old, "Papa, Jesus can do all things."
Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. (Matthew 11:25)
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