A Body of Cement

I’ve never seen cement poured and spread before today. I found it fascinating.

I stood by in my color splashed, zebra stripe rain boots ready for action. Men from my church laughed at me and joked around pretending to shovel the wet gravel into my boots.

Then they put me to work.

I wielded a mini sledgehammer to tap the air pockets out of the wood rimed driveway, I hosed off the tools, and then I sank my boots into the grey quicksand spreading and pulling the cement to the edges.

As the last truck with red and white stripes left, we stood admiring the filled driveway – just as the rain started.

Before today, the thought had never crossed my mind that the Body of Christ is kind of like cement. We are messy, we come from different places, and we have to be pushed into place. Individually one piece of gravel doesn’t do much, but by sticking together with others of different shapes and sizes we can accomplish quite a job.


(Photo taken by my brother Ben Haws.)

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I am a 7-year-old​ stuck in a twenty-something's body. I enjoy long walks on the beach and peanut butter on waffles. If the following combinations of letters mean anything to you: OYAN, LotR, F.R.O.G., AiO, OBPC, DIY Then we can be friends. And if not, we still can be friends!

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