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What are words worth?

So…much…information. So many words. Whatever you want, it’s out there. After a bit of searching and some perseverance, you’ll find what you’re looking for: instructions, images, insight.

As a writer I ask: Do I have the words you want? How will you know until I give them to you? And after you have them, you don’t need to pay me, you have what you came for. It’s the information age. Information comes cheap. Everybody will offer it to you. Take it and go.

Even if my words are good or helpful or wise, they are free. Their worth comes from what you do with them.

  • take them to heart
  • apply them
  • be entertained by them
  • share them
  • sit with and make more of them

And I have no control over this. Now, my words are yours. You “pay me” by:

  • coming back to read
  • subscribing to the blog
  • referring me to a friend
  • bookmarking me
  • “liking” me on facebook

You pay me by taking action on my words. And I will never know it. It’s a pay-it-forward kind of economy. A give and take and give away.

I work for less than minimum wage. And yet more than anyone knows, except the One who knows all hearts, sees all things, and has His own system of accounting.

I pray that the words of my keyboard and the meditations of our hearts might be acceptable to You, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. ~ Psalm 19:14


A give-away a day

What’s left? After you’re gone, after you leave, after you go home…everything you gave away during the time you were there. If you stunk, the stench stays behind. But if you were gracious, it’s the fragrance that remains.

We gathered to remember our friend Callista who died much too young and shared stories and lore of days gone by. Memories are some of what remains. Feelings are some of what remains. But those things fade. Hate to admit that, but I know it’s true.

photo 3 (2)When I returned from the funeral I looked at the tea towel I had magnet-clipped to my refrigerator. On it is a recipe for citrus fruit tarts. Callista gave me this. But not just me. She had decorated dozens of tea towels with different recipes so we could choose a party favor to take home from the ladies tea she hosted last summer.

I chose this one. Made the recipe this winter and invited neighbors to enjoy the fruits of my labor on the day of the “big snow that wasn’t.” It’s really a summer recipe, but I had just gotten news of Callista’s significant illness. She hadn’t been able to host her usual New Year’s brunch this year, and now I knew why. So this was a tribute of sorts. A thanks, really. And it inspired me to invite friends over, just like she was so good at doing.

Now, I look at it on my refrigerator. Callista is gone. And what is left? Besides memories and feelings there is this. What she gave away.

I expect that heap, the one made of things given away, is what we stand on when we stand before the Lord on entering eternity. And somehow, in a way only God knows, that podium hovers on the unseen gifts. The blessings beyond what we’ve given. The reverberations of love we can’t see but He can.

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