Lego Castles

After hours of repetitive work, it was finished. I succeeded in sorting the Lego legacy of four children, which has lain for years in confusion in a large box in the attic. I raided the storage containers and now had the variety of shapes and bricks divided into colours, with a city’s population of cute people resting on a tray. Some await new bodies or new hands, new hats or new heads. Some are complete: knights, pirates and cooks, gas station attendants and astronauts.

Three days on, several hours’ time invested each day, and I have built the knights’ castle, complete with drawbridge and portcullis (both working). My aim is to reconstruct everything into the way it came originally, and then store them separately or give them on to grandchildren or keep them here for hours of rainy day play. It will take me months, no doubt, to complete. But what a sense of achievement, when I watched Gregor (3) happily raising and lowering drawbridge and portcullis, and having the knights ride out on their horses.

Every one of us was born perfect, just the way God wanted us to be. He knit us together in our mothers’ wombs. As life ‘played’ with us, though, some bits became broken. Some bits became lost. Some bits were forgotten, mixed up with other things.

Behold, God says, I am making all things new. He knows every piece of each one of us, every piece which has been hurt or bruised, broken or lost, and he is the one who can put us back together again. Sometimes he heals us in an instant. More often, he heals us over time, through other people or through our own closer walk with him.

I will never leave you nor forsake you, he says. I forgot about the Lego in the attic, for years. God has never forgotten about you, or me.

I am so thankful.