This Little Light of Mine

So. Much. Noise.  I’ve been feeling overwhelmed with the cacophony of words and the underlying emotions- pain, anger, defensiveness, bitterness, hopelessness, rage.  The extremes crashing against each other, shaking me like rolling thunder.  But underneath the lightning bolts and cloud of voices I hear a gentle invitation to be present, to offer what little I have; my five loaves and two little fish.  Without Jesus they wouldn’t amount to much, but with His blessing, I pray my simple lunchbox can make a difference to someone.  I hesitate to hand it over, cringing at the criticism of my meager offering in this current stormy environment.

8 Replies to “This Little Light of Mine”

  1. Thank you,
    sharing your heart in our curious time. Frankly very refreshing. I think for me the stronger point that I have said and now will echo what you’ve shared. Why am I are we fueling divisions in vocabulary and action!
    I welcome more clarity of thought in a foggy season of honest truth!

  2. Good thoughts Lalena…I was thinking about my dad’s experience with segregation right here in Barstow. He went to a Mexican school and was hit on the hands when he spoke Spanish. Consequently, when I began to speak he wouldn’t teach me Spanish…said I was an American and didnt need to know it…so sad. I feel like I was robbed of an important part of my heritage.

    1. I’m really sorry about that- it’s a tragedy to lose language. My german grandmother said something similar- due to harsh prejudice after the war her family stopped speaking it and it wasn’t passed on. I remember your dad- what a character!

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