Posted in love

God is love. Love is God.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Jamez Picard on Unsplash

In church yesterday, the pastor tackled “God is love” (1 John 4:16). It’s part of a series about the nature of God.

Afterwards, I thought about how I would approach that divine attribute. We use adjectives to describe God. God is powerful. Gracious. Just. Merciful. All-knowing. Unchanging. Eternal.

But we don’t use the word love as an adjective. It’s a feeling. I “love” something or someone. Or it’s accompanied by an action. Christ loved us and gave him for us. Or it’s a noun. God abounds in steadfast love.

So this is very different. At first I thought, “I don’t know how I would come at this.”

But then I thought, “What if I turned it around?” What if I start with “Love is God”? Like Paul’s description of love. “Love is patient. Love is kind…” (1 Corinthians 13:5-8). No one truly loves like that. No one but God.

So we learn what love is by observing God. And then we know God because we have seen his unconditional, sacrificial, and unending love.

Love is not just an attribute of God. It surrounds and permeates every other attribute. When God justly judges sin, it’s because of his love for us. He doesn’t want it to destroy us. God reveals his power because of his great love for us. We need a God who can do more than we ask or imagine. An unchanging God reveals his unchanging love for us. No matter what we do or don’t do, he doesn’t change and his love doesn’t change. God’s knowledge is complete. He knows everything about me. And yet he still loves me.

So once you grasp what love really is, you get a glimpse of God. And then you realize he is the essence of love. He is love.

Posted in flowers

Mission accomplished

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Just a few days before, this bouquet brightened a room. Everyone noticed the fragrance of fresh flowers as they walked into the house. They smiled when they saw the vase full of colors on the dining room table.

It could have been from a celebration. Birthdays, anniversaries, and other holidays come to life with fresh cut flowers. My dad always got my mom an orchid to wear on Mothers Day.

I love seeing dancers and actors carrying bouquets after recitals or stage productions. It honors the work and hours of rehearsal.

Flowers go hand in hand with love and romance. They engage all our senses just like a special relationship. Wedding venues are filled with fresh flowers.

So are funerals and cemeteries. The sting of death is countered with a sensory reminder of life. Many express condolences with an arrangement of flowers.

Even with the best care, flowers end up like this. Brown. Lifeless. Dry. Discarded. But they accomplished their mission.

Posted in flowers

Fake flowers

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Those flowers look perfect, don’t they?

They always look perfect. They never change. No new blooms. No new growth.

Synthetic pansies.

Okay, they don’t look bad. They just make me sad.

The butterflies and bees aren’t fooled. They’re nowhere in sight. There are no buds, waiting for just right day to open up. None of them follow the sun across the sky. Nothing wilts. Nothing revives after an afternoon shower.

The colors will fade. Everything fades in the Florida sun. Maybe not today, but one day. And there will be no new replacement color.

And they smell like nothing. They are as fragrant as pictures in a book.

Flowers are a great reminder that no one has to bloom every single day. We can rest, recover, and resurface with renewed color, fragrance, and new growth. We can treasure a moment of beauty rather than take tomorrow’s for granted.

Most importantly, we don’t have to fake it. Just be yourself. You’ll bring color, aroma, and life to a world that desperately needs it.

Posted in neighborhood, trash

“Chairs on the curb” day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Today was “chairs on the curb” day in the neighborhood. Fridays are big trash pickup day, which means you can put anything except toxic waste on the curb and the trash guys will haul it away. Lots of upholstered chairs got the old heave-ho this morning.

Every chair has a story. Who sat and stayed up into the night absorbed in a recently purchased book? Who binge-watched a whole new season of their favorite show from the chair? Who wore the jersey and hat of their favorite team, cheering them on to a championship from the comfort of a chair? Did a cat or dog occupy the chair, making it their favorite snooze location? Any chair like that would be ground-zero for many naps.

Every chair has a story. Stains from spilled drinks. Crumbs from late-night snacks. Grime from infrequent cleaning. Faded fabric from sunlight peeking through blinds.

Every chair has a story. Each started out in a furniture show showroom. Each one was brand new, delivered to a home, carefully placed in a room. The color matched the carpet and drapes. Scotch-guard protected each chair for one year. After that, you’re on your own.

Each chair was someone’s favorite. For a few years, at least.

Until curb day.

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Do-it-yourself hybrid roadside mailbox

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Okay, I lied.

Here’s another post about a mailbox in my neighborhood. Here’s a broken metal box nailed to an old wooden post. A fusion of two broken worlds. Functional. Ugly. Creative. Resourceful. Not even close to code. Unashamed. Neighbors hate this. Mail carrier must chuckle every day.

This is definitely Florida man. Hell no, I’m not buying a new mailbox. The old post hasn’t fallen over yet. All we get is junk mail anyway. A couple of nails. Problem solved.

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Front yard of the week

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I chose this as my “front yard of the day” because the eclectic design drew me in.

  • A “Welcome to the Shitshow” banner
  • A meditative frog
  • A stately egret
  • A grimacing pelican
  • A patriotic pinwheel
  • Blank directional signs pointing everywhere and nowhere
  • Three pedestal solar lights
  • One spiky plant in a pot
  • A trio of bowls where rain collects

The residents may have had some rhyme and reason for this collection. But it’s not obvious to me.

Do these folks lack direction in their lives? Or do they feel like they’re being pulled in so many directions that life seems out of control, or as they put it, a “shitshow?”

Perhaps they allowed each person in the family to choose one item for the front garden. The collection represents the personalities and preferences of those who live in that house.

I suppose it could be a collection of gifts they felt compelled to display, lest they insult the givers. (I wouldn’t feel obligated, but that’s just me.)

So there you have it. My choice for front yard of the week.

Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

Into the future?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The alarm went off at 5 am. As it usually does. I shook off the dream I was having, got up, wandered to the kitchen, pushed the button to start the coffee maker. Headed to the back bedroom to roust the big dog.

And then I woke up. I glanced at the clock. 12:30 am. That’s weird. I just woke up from a dream about waking up from a dream.

It’s like time travel. I was living in the future. My future. I know it was only a few hours. But it was the future. I was there. It felt real.

How cool would it be if I could set my dream clock to a time in the future? Just to get a glimpse. A peek. A whiff of what would happen tomorrow or in a year.

I wouldn’t want lottery numbers or sports results for betting. Or future diseases that will lay me up. I don’t need nightmares of a future dystopian world or where the hurricane will really make landfall.

I just want a snapshot of where I’ll be or who I’m with or what I’m doing. Will I be surprised? Or will it be predictable.

I work hard at being present, in the moment. It’s challenging to not borrow from the future or be weighed down by the past. I want to make sure I don’t miss where I am right now, who I’m with, and what I’m doing.

Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

This yard sale was a bust

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Saturday’s garage sale was a bust. Seven people stopped by. Two bought stuff. I made $12.

That’s why I’ll only sit out there for a few hours. No two day eight-hour marathons for me. I put it out on social media and a few roadside stands, but it just wasn’t happening.

The first lady who stopped by walked up and asked, “Are you selling any patio furniture?” I choked back a chuckle, looked at the tables of toys, lamps, and kitchen stuff before answering, “No.” Where did she think we were hiding those items?

The second couple was very friendly. As the woman looked over the toys for sale, she said, “Our youngest just moved out.”

I asked, “How many children do you have?” The husband held up four fingers. I followed up with, “Any grandchildren?”

She answered, “No, and we probably won’t. Two have already had vasectomies.” I thought, “Okay, too much information.” They looked very surprised when I told them I had ten grandchildren.

They didn’t buy anything.

My next customers were a mother and son who drove up in a silver Mercedes. I didn’t quite recognize their language, so I asked where they were from. Haiti. They had a lot to say to each other about the items we were selling. He brought a couple of table lamps over for me to plug in. He set them aside to buy, but she put them back on the table. She had him hold up some room-darkening curtains and held up four fingers, trying to talk me down from $20 for two complete sets. I held up ten fingers. She frowned and shook her head.

She had me plug in a hair straightener. It worked just fine, although she really didn’t have the hair to use it on. She put it aside as if she might buy it. She added three glass vases and a dozen plastic storage tubs with lids. The two bickered back and forth, deciding to buy the two lamps, but putting back the straightener.

Finally they were ready to go, adding a small fan and handing me $10. I said, “Merci,” and they drove off.

A young mother was our last customer, gathering up two silicon baking mats and a few toys for a one-year-old still in the car with her husband.

Posted in dogs, neighbor, neighborhood

Picture perfect poop

Posted on by William Douthwaite

A neighbor framed his driveway with these new signs last week. On my daily walks I haven’t noticed any dog waste left behind.

Until today.

Today someone deliberately left a bag of poop right there in the driveway. It wasn’t me. I swear. But I want to thank the person who did for creating the perfect picture for me.

This does nothing to improve the neighborhood. I have this theory that these signs cause owners to make their dogs wait until they arrive at these yards.

Let’s say for the sake of argument that the camera catches my dog, big or small, making an early morning deposit on this lawn. What would happen next? Is there facial (or butt) recognition for dogs, revealing their home address? Would someone come knocking on my door with photo evidence of the crime? Could they get a canine restraining order?

These signs come and go in my immediate neighborhood. They fade, rip, deteriorate, and eventually blow away. Nature will restore balance to the world.

Sign, sign
Everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery
Breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that
Can’t you read the sign? (Five Man Electrical Band 1971)