I've been thinking, have you walked down the toy aisle lately? Have you thought about how many toys "do something" and how many just "are something"?

I was thinking about it recently. And it kind of seems to me that a lot of what we have bought for Eli is designed to "do something". We buy toys because of what they can do, and Eli enjoys the toys because of what they do.

And, perhaps, by accident, we are training him, and ourselves, to value things, even love things, not because of what they are, but because of what they do. And perhaps it has had it's effect on our perspective.

Why else would we be tempted to believe that some people are of higher value than others? Why is it so easy to believe that someone quite content to live off welfare for the entirity of their life is not as worthy of love, respect, or consideration as ourselves? Why is it so easy to criticise people who have failed? Why are we so interested in news articles about the latest fallen politician? Could it be because, like our toys, we want our people to "do something". We find their value in what they can do, not who they are.

I don't know. I highly doubt that I can convince Eli that playing with a rock will be good for his future world view, but the thought is probably a good one for me to ponder for a while.

I mean, how often do I feel unworthy of God's love because I can't see how I am "doing" anything worthwhile with my life? I need to re-evaluate where my view on the value of a human life comes from. If I feel that I can lose my value in God's eyes because I am a failure, then I am accusing the God whose "Loving-kindness endures forever" of being like a fickle-minded child who would only want a toy that "does something". I am so glad that my flawed view of God does not change who He truly is. I praise Him for being the God who chooses sinners and tells us that His strength is made PERFECT in our weakness!

And, a song that says it better... by J. J. Heller

I live in a fascinating town! The night before last I broke a tooth. The next morning I went down two doors to the dentist's office, without any appointment, spoke briefly with the dentist, her mother-in-law, and her adorable little daughter. The dentist looked at my tooth, sat me in a room, and then, fifteen minutes later I walked back home with my tooth fixed temporarily and an appointment for a permenant fix later.