Every year I write a Christmas poem. I just finished a draft of this year's poem, and I'm quite happy with the way that it is going thus far.
I feel it is an odd thing to do, writing a Christmas poem, as I don't celebrate holidays. However, I do celebrate th birth of Christ the savior. I strive to celebrate this every day so that I don't need a specific day. Christ is not for one day a year, or even one a week. He is not a fashion or fad, nor does he have a point when he becomes irrelevant. He is the living Word of God, come down from Heaven.
I write this not to guilt you about celebrating a holiday, but to remind myself of these truths. God is good, but I'm forgetful.
29 November 2010
23 November 2010
The Ladder
I wrote this last Tuesday, so one week ago today. Since then I've been having difficulties with my internet connection and have as such been unable to post. Enjoy.
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Today was a day like any other. I got up this morning and went to work. I went to my second job, which I only do one day a week, but it was still the same old get up and go to work.
I get to work to find that yesterday began a lot of rearrangement of the shirt store that I work at. We are discontinuing several designs, so the designs on the wall needed to be moved around to compensate for the open spaces. This got to be my job.
The shirt store has pretty high ceilings. This meant that rearranging the higher shirts involved the use of a ladder that I believe to have been 16 feet. This is quite high, almost three times my height. Initially I was afraid, but the fear quickly abated as I moved the shirts around, gradually leaning more and placing more trust in the ladder.
Occasionally the ladder shimmied. With each shimmy, my confidence grew: it had happened before, so what was one more time?
After about an hour, my theory quickly developed a hole. As I leaned out to move something, I felt the ladder shimmy. This time, however, it did not stop at a shimmy. It was not a leg skimming across the floor to find 4 points that were in the same plane, as opposed to the three with the wobbly fourth leg. It was not even a warning that I needed to get down. No, I was near the top of the ladder, and it was coming down.
When I felt this, I knew I had to get down. I started climbing. Four rungs in, I realized this was not working: instead of getting down, I was riding the ladder to the floor. It was absolutely falling faster than I was descending. Without even realize what I was doing, I jumped. About 3 feet in front of me was a shirt press with 400˚ metal; a few inches to my right lied a corner; to my right, metal hangers.
As I was landing, I was also trying to catch the ladder. Somehow, by the grace of God, I landed on my feet. My knee bumped the side of the ladder on the way down, and I got a small scratch on my wrist from the counter. I was otherwise unscathed.
My boss, who saw the whole thing happen, is freaking out. He makes sure I'm ok, and then says, "You landed on your feet." Until he said this, I hadn't even realized I had landed on my feet. He kept repeating, "You landed on your feet." He was every bit as amazed by this as I was.
He yelled to the back and let everyone know I was ok. For the rest of the day, I made sure I had the ladder all the way open and the locks on the ladder engaged. It was an awesome showcase of God's grace, but I also know not to put God to the test.
In case you're wondering, I didn't catch the ladder.
Today was a day like any other. I got up this morning and went to work. I went to my second job, which I only do one day a week, but it was still the same old get up and go to work.
I get to work to find that yesterday began a lot of rearrangement of the shirt store that I work at. We are discontinuing several designs, so the designs on the wall needed to be moved around to compensate for the open spaces. This got to be my job.
The shirt store has pretty high ceilings. This meant that rearranging the higher shirts involved the use of a ladder that I believe to have been 16 feet. This is quite high, almost three times my height. Initially I was afraid, but the fear quickly abated as I moved the shirts around, gradually leaning more and placing more trust in the ladder.
Occasionally the ladder shimmied. With each shimmy, my confidence grew: it had happened before, so what was one more time?
After about an hour, my theory quickly developed a hole. As I leaned out to move something, I felt the ladder shimmy. This time, however, it did not stop at a shimmy. It was not a leg skimming across the floor to find 4 points that were in the same plane, as opposed to the three with the wobbly fourth leg. It was not even a warning that I needed to get down. No, I was near the top of the ladder, and it was coming down.
When I felt this, I knew I had to get down. I started climbing. Four rungs in, I realized this was not working: instead of getting down, I was riding the ladder to the floor. It was absolutely falling faster than I was descending. Without even realize what I was doing, I jumped. About 3 feet in front of me was a shirt press with 400˚ metal; a few inches to my right lied a corner; to my right, metal hangers.
As I was landing, I was also trying to catch the ladder. Somehow, by the grace of God, I landed on my feet. My knee bumped the side of the ladder on the way down, and I got a small scratch on my wrist from the counter. I was otherwise unscathed.
My boss, who saw the whole thing happen, is freaking out. He makes sure I'm ok, and then says, "You landed on your feet." Until he said this, I hadn't even realized I had landed on my feet. He kept repeating, "You landed on your feet." He was every bit as amazed by this as I was.
He yelled to the back and let everyone know I was ok. For the rest of the day, I made sure I had the ladder all the way open and the locks on the ladder engaged. It was an awesome showcase of God's grace, but I also know not to put God to the test.
In case you're wondering, I didn't catch the ladder.
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Today was a day like any other. I got up this morning and went to work. I went to my second job, which I only do one day a week, but it was still the same old get up and go to work.
I get to work to find that yesterday began a lot of rearrangement of the shirt store that I work at. We are discontinuing several designs, so the designs on the wall needed to be moved around to compensate for the open spaces. This got to be my job.
The shirt store has pretty high ceilings. This meant that rearranging the higher shirts involved the use of a ladder that I believe to have been 16 feet. This is quite high, almost three times my height. Initially I was afraid, but the fear quickly abated as I moved the shirts around, gradually leaning more and placing more trust in the ladder.
Occasionally the ladder shimmied. With each shimmy, my confidence grew: it had happened before, so what was one more time?
After about an hour, my theory quickly developed a hole. As I leaned out to move something, I felt the ladder shimmy. This time, however, it did not stop at a shimmy. It was not a leg skimming across the floor to find 4 points that were in the same plane, as opposed to the three with the wobbly fourth leg. It was not even a warning that I needed to get down. No, I was near the top of the ladder, and it was coming down.
When I felt this, I knew I had to get down. I started climbing. Four rungs in, I realized this was not working: instead of getting down, I was riding the ladder to the floor. It was absolutely falling faster than I was descending. Without even realize what I was doing, I jumped. About 3 feet in front of me was a shirt press with 400˚ metal; a few inches to my right lied a corner; to my right, metal hangers.
As I was landing, I was also trying to catch the ladder. Somehow, by the grace of God, I landed on my feet. My knee bumped the side of the ladder on the way down, and I got a small scratch on my wrist from the counter. I was otherwise unscathed.
My boss, who saw the whole thing happen, is freaking out. He makes sure I'm ok, and then says, "You landed on your feet." Until he said this, I hadn't even realized I had landed on my feet. He kept repeating, "You landed on your feet." He was every bit as amazed by this as I was.
He yelled to the back and let everyone know I was ok. For the rest of the day, I made sure I had the ladder all the way open and the locks on the ladder engaged. It was an awesome showcase of God's grace, but I also know not to put God to the test.
In case you're wondering, I didn't catch the ladder.
Today was a day like any other. I got up this morning and went to work. I went to my second job, which I only do one day a week, but it was still the same old get up and go to work.
I get to work to find that yesterday began a lot of rearrangement of the shirt store that I work at. We are discontinuing several designs, so the designs on the wall needed to be moved around to compensate for the open spaces. This got to be my job.
The shirt store has pretty high ceilings. This meant that rearranging the higher shirts involved the use of a ladder that I believe to have been 16 feet. This is quite high, almost three times my height. Initially I was afraid, but the fear quickly abated as I moved the shirts around, gradually leaning more and placing more trust in the ladder.
Occasionally the ladder shimmied. With each shimmy, my confidence grew: it had happened before, so what was one more time?
After about an hour, my theory quickly developed a hole. As I leaned out to move something, I felt the ladder shimmy. This time, however, it did not stop at a shimmy. It was not a leg skimming across the floor to find 4 points that were in the same plane, as opposed to the three with the wobbly fourth leg. It was not even a warning that I needed to get down. No, I was near the top of the ladder, and it was coming down.
When I felt this, I knew I had to get down. I started climbing. Four rungs in, I realized this was not working: instead of getting down, I was riding the ladder to the floor. It was absolutely falling faster than I was descending. Without even realize what I was doing, I jumped. About 3 feet in front of me was a shirt press with 400˚ metal; a few inches to my right lied a corner; to my right, metal hangers.
As I was landing, I was also trying to catch the ladder. Somehow, by the grace of God, I landed on my feet. My knee bumped the side of the ladder on the way down, and I got a small scratch on my wrist from the counter. I was otherwise unscathed.
My boss, who saw the whole thing happen, is freaking out. He makes sure I'm ok, and then says, "You landed on your feet." Until he said this, I hadn't even realized I had landed on my feet. He kept repeating, "You landed on your feet." He was every bit as amazed by this as I was.
He yelled to the back and let everyone know I was ok. For the rest of the day, I made sure I had the ladder all the way open and the locks on the ladder engaged. It was an awesome showcase of God's grace, but I also know not to put God to the test.
In case you're wondering, I didn't catch the ladder.
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