Halászó Fiú (Fisher Boy) by Senyei Károly
I came across this fountain while I was visiting Budapest and I was delighted. I love sculpture like this: active, alive, beautiful, telling a story. The children are lively, not idealized, and the medium is wonderfully suited to the story told as they forever struggle with the fish in the water’s spray.
I’m going through my archives this week, posting photos that should have seen the light of day ages ago. I miss the view from my old flat. I was always aware of the sky’s changing beauty. One evening, the stormy clouds parted for a glorious finale to the day. My friends and I climbed onto my roof to catch this fantastic sunset.
I went for a walk in the sunshine last week, which gave me perspective in more ways than one. There’s nothing like a long walk to clear the head.
The sky can make an ordinary corner of the neighbourhood lovely.
Sometimes the best moments are ones that cannot be photographed because taking a camera out would flatten and cheapen the intimacy of the interaction. So the question is, how and what to put on a blog while respecting the gift of face to face relationships? Here’s an attempt.
This week I had a post-Thanksgiving vat of soup that needed to be shared. My friend, Melissa, and her son, Sam, went downtown with me and we served people at Wenceslaus Square. We met a woman, Marketa, who was invaluable as she spread the word to her friends as they passed by us.
This fall, a story that keeps popping up is the parable of the sower (Mark 4:1-20). After reading it in September, I heard a devotional on it at a conference in Berlin in October, then our community group from church studied the version from Luke and I did an object lesson with the teens I volunteer with in November. One of the questions the parable raises is: what type of heart do you have? A heart that is hard to God? One that is receptive at first, but then has nowhere for roots to grow? A distracted heart? Or a heart that is open to God, thirsty for wisdom, and eager to grow good fruit?
Back to offering soup to the homeless downtown. I saw a version of the sower parable played out. Four men saw us across the square. One had crutches and only one leg. Marketa went over and told them we had soup. Two left immediately; the man with crutches sat on a bench and the fourth came over and gladly ate some soup. I brought a cup over to the man sitting, but he said no, thank you. Marketa said half of those who refuse say no from shame, while the others refuse from pride.
The seeds sown today were planted in my own heart. I allow pride and shame to affect many of my decisions. I forget to ask for help and power through on my own. Today I saw the beauty in being humble and I learned from the dignity of those who received with open spirits.