The three blue Mason jars waited in a cardboard box in my basement for nearly five years.
Spiders had their heyday with them, but I wouldn’t touch them.
Never mind the fact that I had a small collection of antique Mason jars and longed to bring the three up from the basement and display them with my others.
There was something about those jars that made me want to hide them away. Because I knew that if I took them out, I’d be overcome with guilt.
No, I couldn’t get the jars out. Couldn’t enjoy their sturdy, rounded shoulders, their clear sky coloring, their block “PERFECT MASON” lettering. You see, I wasn’t sure if the jars were really mine and every time I thought of them, my conscience was pricked.
The last house we lived in we rented and towering shelves of canning jars new and old were in the garage. I was new to the whole farming thing, but 29 acres and a plowed vegetable garden were pretty strong indications that I start.
And so I did. My first year was an absolute ...
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Who is God ... to you?
God is not a mean old ogre waiting to squash us for our mistakes. In fact, he’s more than willing to take on the burdens of our sin, if only we’d give them to him.
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