When you come from a long line of penny-pinching cost-saving repurposing thrifting immigrant farmers, it only makes sense that old suitcases become corner display units,

old porch doors become vine trellises,

old birch trees become coat trees,

old jars (not new jars that look like old jars) become canisters,

old barn rakes become shelves for other old things (and for the “R” surround-sound stereo speaker),

old bushes become living room art,

old windows become textile frames,

old salon tables become corner kitchen desks,

and old shed doors (with the help of a neighbor child and some crayons) become coffee tables.

This inherent need to recover, refashion, repurpose, and remake things that I had absolutely no part of making in the first place is perhaps a tiny reflection of why the Maker of all . . . the Maker of me . . . is so set on recovering and remaking what He not only made but what He designed and fashioned with loving care.

What was lost is now found. What was broken is now whole. What was made is now remade.

And for that, the stars rejoice.