Drawing Pictures in the Sand

The sight of my child drawing in the dirt was a full circle and strangely healing moment for me today. It reminded me of the hours I spent drawing in the dry red dirt of African villages just to pass the time. It also reminded me of another childhood past time that was reminisced about in a recent sermon at our church: my sissies and I made endless mud pies to dry in the sun and serve to our family. 

Back to Little B. His attention span isn’t normally long but a piece of metal and an almost dry puddle kept him occupied drawing for a minute. I want his life to be boring enough that he can find joy in writing in the dirt for many years to come. And maybe the healing of it isn’t just my imagination. After all, even Jesus wrote in the sand for catharsis.