The Orange Basket

Aha! comes when least expected.

I was in the guest bathroom, which I seldom use, and I looked, really looked, at a burnt orange basket sitting on the floor; it was filled with magazines and toilet paper. For the first time, I took notice of the worker's hands as they wove the basket. I could see a dark skinned woman or man with thick, black hair sitting cross legged on a dirt floor intricately weaving together pieces of a bush or tree; I do not know which. The rich color, was it added before or after the weaving began? I noticed how perfectly each row meshed together and how tightly woven each connected line was. I studied the handle and wondered if it was an added piece of material or connected to the original and stretched while it was wet. I wondered about the basket and its maker and for just a moment, I felt great appreciation for the hours of labor put into a simple, beautiful object. I paid a very small amount for that basket at an outlet store years ago, but that basket, on a scale I can't really quantify at this time, is priceless.

Render service with enthusiasm, as to the Lord and not to men and women.

Ephesians 6:7

Peace.

Love, Linda