A Life in Exile

I finished my work in the house, so headed out to the shop to see if there was any way I could help my son with what will definitely be the hardest part of letting go of the place that’s been home for the last ten years. He wasn’t cleaning, but working on just one more project before having to bite the bullet or return to school, whichever came first — I’m hear to tell you it will  be returning to school. #Momsigh

However, I figured there was something I could do, and he agreed that I could help by sorting wood. We’re not talking about huge pieces, though there are plenty of those as well, but smaller chunks of planks or trunks. He wanted the ebony in one box and the other hard woods in another.

He worked on his tortoise-shell ukulele project and sang to me, while I began organizing wood. Every piece I touched reminded me of the man who loved wood almost as much as Jesus. A carpenter at heart, Raouf would come back from Sudan with ebony tree trunks in his luggage. It broke his heart that they used it for firewood. I smiled at thinking how he’d passed that love to my son.

While going through a box, I found a piece of his precious ebony that had obviously been used for a previous project — it looked pretty “used up” to me, with very little left to spare.

I chucked into the trash pile.

My son, who wasn’t obviously paying any attention to me, suddenly cried out: “No, don’t throw that away! I can use that!”

I looked up, startled by his outburst. “It’s just a small piece. You’ve got tons of wood. Do you really have to keep every piece?”

“Of course, Mom,” he went on to explain, “I can use those pieces when I need just an accent to a project. They’re perfect, and keep me from cutting into a full piece for something small.”

I bent over and dug through the box until I found the precious piece in question. He picked up a small plastic bucket, full of minute portions of wood. “You can put the small ones in this.”

Lesson learned, I continued my task, as he went happily back to his wood-working project. That’s when God spoke:

“There is nothing wasted in my economy.”

I snapped a quick picture of the bucket of scraps. To the untrained eye, they were useless, used up, imperfect or worn, but to the Master Carpenter, they were precious pieces that still had purpose.

How many of us feel worthy only of the scrap heap, when God says, “you still have a part to play in my work in this world?

Are you feeling used up or that maybe you’ve already done your part and there’s nothing left? That small accent of wood in the newly crafted instrument is what makes it truly unique. God wants to use your life, your story of struggle or abuse or loss to bring out his best in the life of another.

Don’t let the world tell you you’re of no use — God’s purpose does not end until the day he takes us home. Let the Master Carpenter take whatever is left, whether it’s a full, solid plank or just a rough chip of a piece, and use it to his purpose and glory.

Let nothing be wasted of your life for God’s use.

Grace and Peace