January 31, 2010


I felt it slipping out of my hand, seconds later, crashing into the zinc. One of my favorite vision pots - glass was everywhere … splintered glass ...chunks of glass … glass in all shapes … glass in all sizes. I loved cooking with that pot. I stared in shock wishing I could put the pieces back together. It was too late. Like my words sometimes.  Brash words, that slip unexpectedly through the door1 of my lips of clay. Words I wish had never spoken.

Father let my words always be pleasant2 and gracious,3
                             In Jesus name,
1. Psalms 141:3. 2. Proverbs 16:24; 3. Ecclesiastes 10:12a

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