Monday, September 12, 2011

Brick and Stone

Just got back from another one of my wimpy jogs (but I jogged! Yay, me!). I sat on the front steps for a little while when I was done to cool down cuz it's so nice out this morning. I was looking around my neighborhood and thanking God for the blessing of living in a place where I see beauty when I look outside. Planned and manicured beauty, yes, but that's still beauty -- art -- an act of creation in the image of God.

I was looking at our and the neighbors' mailboxes. Theirs is red brick. Ours is whitish and grayish stones. And I was wondering why they made our mailboxes look so different when they sit so relatively close together on our relatively isolated end of the cul de sac.

Then I looked at the neighbors' house and realized it's made of red brick. And I turned around to glance at ours and saw . . . wait for it . . . whitish and grayish stone. (At least at the bottom -- I don't know what to call the material the main part of the house is made of, nor its color -- taupe, maybe?).

This is one of those things about me that makes my husband shake his head in disbelief. We've lived here almost three years now, but if you'd asked me what material the house was made of, I'd be hard pressed to picture it in my head to even describe to you. And I'd have no hope of describing the Lapkes' place to you. Red brick! Who knew.

I think it odd now, too, that looking from the perspective of my front steps, I was thinking of the mailboxes as a unit, as connected. But from the perspective of the street, clearly each mailbox is connected with its house. Duh.

I'm not sure there's a point to be made here. Something about perspective? Attention to detail? Unity in diversity? I don't know -- I just jogged and I'm tired. Find your own insight today. :)

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