Sometimes a Chime (the sun’s reflection)

Sometimes I scan Pinterest for ideas, for those little creative DIY projects that I know I can hack, even if I’m not very good at it.

So we’re decorating the balcony a little, trying to make it more of a home for our potted plants, an extension of the intentional living we’re trying at inside.

I found this idea for a wind chime made of old keys and a stick. So the boys headed outside with me to dig in the dirt for a twig or two.

I hung the keys with yarn from the stick, wrapped it in orange and pink string, and decided to keep it inside.

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It hangs in our sunroom, right above the couch, like a mobile to help anybody who’s napping there drift off to sleep.

The keys catch the afternoon spring sunlight that blares through the windows, and I see the reflection as I sip my coffee in the quiet of nap time.

Richard Foster says,

“We do not have to work at being good and kind. We are good and kind.”

And Hemingway says,

“We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.”

Right here in my own living room, 5 dangling keys remind me. Right here, the words Titan and Brinks and even a glittering Wal-Mart reflect sun rays, and then I remember that I’m reflecting, too.

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Every single day, I’m letting specks of light stream out of me, because God calls it out of me, because He still calls me good.

Even Hemingway saw it, our deep need to twist in the sun, to let something true and holy radiate from our insides, even if (and especially when) we’re broken.

We were crafted, pieced together with some holier form of yarn, breathed on with spirit-breath that ushers the light through our bones and out of our eyes, our mouths, our hands and feet.

And there we are, shimmering and golden in the speckling light of our own worlds that surround us, that call us to be hope and space and peace to the tired and broken places.

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