I began Christmas shopping in earnest yesterday; well, I purchased one gift so that counts, doesn鈥檛 it? The combination of age-related lack of desire to hit the malls, a pared-down revenue stream and the realization that I have a lot of treasured stuff I鈥檇 rather pass on than buy more, has made this year particularly challenging. Ignoring all that, I headed for one of the biggest annual Christmas craft shows in town. The crowds, merchandise and talent of our city鈥檚 residents were impressive.
Of all the displays of homemade jewellery, I was most intrigued by one that could almost be called a 鈥渕orphing of ugly into unique but not quite beautiful鈥� pieces. Earrings and broaches were large and bold in shape and design but that wasn鈥檛 what I found most interesting. Every piece was the same colour: dull black with no luminosity, created from something possessing what I would call a curious sense of d茅j脿 vu. I was right. Sitting at the bottom of a rack of earrings was a simple note stating that each piece had been made from old bicycle tires or parts. Though these creations were far from what I was looking for as a gift, I鈥檝e been thinking about them and their origin. Who but an artist could see a thing of beauty in a pile of broken down bikes?
My musings led me to a Gaither song that goes this way: 鈥淪omething beautiful, something good. All my confusion, He understood. All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife but He made something beautiful of my life.鈥�
As we near Christmas, let鈥檚 not forget God鈥檚 kind of giving: in exchange for my broken self He gives unconditional grace鈥nd, that鈥檚 just the beginning of what has He has in store for us!
鈥淔reely you have received, freely give.鈥� (Matthew 10:8)
