Today I bought an old ugly dresser with nice bones at the local thrift store. It was just your standard 1970’s wood dresser. I brought it home, sanded the living daylights out of it and painted it a vibrant teal. Yes. You heard me right.


Pictures to come soon.

But as I wait for the paint to dry I wanted to share with you a little paper that I discovered one of my sons had written. It’s enough to warm the cockles of any mother’s heart. And to put her on her knees begging for mercy. (And to make her laugh and thank God for honest children.)

I think I am like Derek becase Derek was the real thief and I steel from my brothers. Derek stole because he found a hole in the storage room. I do it for fun. It’s bad. I know, but I do it.

Thus concludes this heartwarming tale of motherhood. Next up: Why I am not like Raskolnikov.


One thought on “The dresser and the thief

  1. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me…
    For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. (From Romans 7)

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