It is with much anticipation and a little trepidation that I enter the blogging world. While I welcome the opportunity to post my writing I know that someday I’ll offend someone by what I write. “Welcome to life,” you say?
While I love to write, I’ve avoided computers as much as possible. My main reason is that most computers sit on desks, and I don’t like to sit at desks. ☺ My idea of torture is being chained to a desk, pecking at a computer keyboard.
I use a pen and paper to compose all my thoughts. I can sit on a rock and write, if I want to. I put everything down longhand and my dear wife types it for me. Then we edit multiple times before you see it.
A pen is much more transportable than a computer. I was getting a story once in a remote part of Nicaragua. I was riding a public bus and then walking around in a small town looking for a former Mercy Ships orthopedic patient. I thought to myself, “No one wants to steal my pen, or this piece of paper!” It was a comforting thought. Carrying a laptop or other fancy electronic gear can be dangerous to your health in some countries.
My laptop is my pen behind my ear. I call it my “eartop”. When I push the button on the top the writing point extends. That’s called “uploading”. Push it again and it retracts—“downloading”. When I drop my pen I call it a “computer crash”. Some parts of my life are still relatively simple and trouble free. ☺
My first article is an account of a visit to my eye doctor’s office. His name is Dr. Nickel, and yes, I always get my money’s worth.
I was sitting in the eye doctor’s waiting room when a nurse appeared from a side door, clipboard in hand.
“Mr. Trace?” she called. Getting no response, she raised her voice to be heard in the various side rooms and alcoves of the large waiting area. “Mr. Trace? Mr. Trace?”
I was about to tell her “There seems to be no trace of Mr. Trace,” when he suddenly popped up from a distant chair and followed the nurse through the door and down the hallway.
The search for Mr. Trace reminds me of my own sinful heart. Just when I think I’m doing well and have conquered that besetting, unsettling sin, the Holy Spirit shows up and calls out, “Just a trace? Just a trace?” And sure enough, up pops a little fear, anxiety and worry. Or just a trace of bitterness, anger, or critical spirit. When confronted, they duly identify themselves and follow the Holy Spirit down the hallway—to the altar of confession and forgiveness.
Dear Lord, please erase every trace of sin in my life that I may serve you more fully, more effectively, all of my days. Amen.
"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." I John 1: 9 NIV