My Daddy's Work

Hey, Siestas! How are my favorite bloggers doing?? I don't get to really tarry right now on the blog because I am officially one month out from my Esther manuscript coming due (you won't waste a prayer on me) and I'll need every second of it. When I sign a contract, my schedule is nothing but a well planned theory. It never takes into account that sometimes over the course of a project Dad's die, daughters get married, bodies get viruses, ministries need running (I praise You for the privilege, Lord!), husbands need tending, Christmas needs celebrating, dogs get cancer and might, if it's a hard year, even need burying. Deep sigh. Anyway, you've heard enough about that so I'm not going to go there with you again. Just wanted you to know why some of my times on here have to be briefer right now. I always forget to take life into account when I plan my work schedule. Then again, I wouldn't be much of a servant to you if I weren't living life right along with you.

I just had to hop on and tell you something I thought was kinda fun. Yesterday Amanda stopped by the ministry with Jackson. He's almost two and a half now and at the cutest age imaginable. I'd met AJ out in the parking lot because I love to surprise the boy by popping up at the window next to his car seat. He's always so glad to see Bibby and makes such a big deal out of it. Man, I'm so drunk on the little guy I can hardly stand it. Anyway, after the half hour it took me to unlatch him from that gosh-awful carseat, we brought him in and he immediately owned the place. Of course he did. He gets to. What I found so delightfully endearing was that, no matter where he went (and he went practically everywhere in the building), he patted things in that particular office and confidently, possessively chirped, "Daddy's work!" Mind you, Curtis has one office just like the rest of us and it is down on the first floor but to his son who thinks he is the END ALL, the whole building was Daddy's work. Even Sabrina's office was Daddy's work and she directs the whole shebang.

I loved it. So did she.

I just wanted to remind you today that no matter where you go, you can freely pat everything in the room or everything in sight, for crying out loud, every single thing on God's green earth, and say, "Daddy's work." Go right ahead. Be confident. Act possessive for His Name's sake. Sound a little sassy when you say it because it's the truth beneath all truths. It's all Daddy's work. He owns the place. For "The earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it." Psalm 24:1. He not only owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He owns the thousand hills under the tails of the cattle.

"This is what the Lord says: 'Heaven is My throne, and the earth is My footstool.'" (Is. 66:1) If it's on Planet Earth, Darling Thing, it's under His feet. Don't sweat it so much. It's Daddy's work.