In My Father's House

In my Father's house are many mansions

Many mansions in my Father's house

In my Father's house are many mansions

Many mansions in my Father's house

I go to prepare a place for you, for you

I go to prepare a place for you, for you

In my Father's house are many mansions

Many mansions in my Father's house.

--Steve Green "Hide 'Em in Your Heart" Scripture Songs

A couple of things have happened this week.  First, a great uncle that I only met a few times has gone home to Heaven--a loss that was expected, attended by his family, and gentle, but still a loss.  So I've been thinking about Heaven a little more this week, though, no doubt, not as much as I should

The other is that on Monday night, Brother pulled over the torchiere lamp and shattered the shade on an end table, quite impressively.  He sobbed and watched while the Husband cleaned up the glass, and while I held two squirmy fascinated kids.  On Tuesday we went out to Home Depot to look for replacement shades, which they apparently only sell in some expensive online store in Connecticut.  Since a replacement glass shade cost as much as a new lamp, I bought a new lamp.  We installed it, decided we liked it, and went to bed.

On Wednesday morning Brother, scooting innocently around the couch, knocked the lamp over again with his butt.  I am still not sure how he managed this: I can barely lift the new lamp, it's so heavy, and we haven't been able to replicate it falling.  The shade wouldn't have broken if it had fallen to the carpet; as it was, the updown happened to be sitting in an unusual place on the floor, just where the lampshade hit--and shattered.

So Brother yelled in the playpen, Miss Boo yelled on the couch, and Mama tried gingerly to pick up the second shattered glass shade in two days.  It took two rounds of vacuuming to get it all.

Then it was time to get everybody dressed and breakfasted, and at the table Miss Boo began singing the little Scripture song above, and once again I was surprised at how the Word can penetrate, even when sung by little kids.  (I'm not sure why I'm surprised.  The Word is the Word, after all, whether it's read or sung.)

In my Father's house are many mansions?  That's right.  So what's a lamp or two?  What, in fact, are entire houses?  Here I'm a sharecropper, of sorts, but there I'm a son.

It made for interesting meditation fodder as I ran around town (again) looking for lampshades.

Incidentally, I found two fabric shades at Target that fit the bases of the lamps, and that look just fine.  So now I have two lamps instead of one, and the Lord taught me a valuable lesson: why waste fretting on things that won't follow me to my Father's house?

Which is not to say I won't make the same mistake again, but at least I'm making a start.

Cheers,

Breanna