I hear the sound of the sandles Shuffling on the streets of Nazereth Dispersing dust like you and l. The feet’s of ‘ the waymaker, walking ... The sweet sound of Yeshus floating down the cobbled pathway as his mother calls him. The whirring of His tools,perhaps a broken finger as the master craftsman ,the wounded healer submits to His earthly father , Is it any wonder that God chose to be born in a carpenters home? Can you imagine a house built so shoddily it cannot shelter? A crooked table,a stand that does not hold. The hours of intense labour ,love and investment a master craftsman puts in to finish the craft? Much like our Heavenly Father.Is it any wonder that Jesus chose those ordinary men over philosophers and thinkers. Can you visualise a fisherman sleep through the dawn while the world hauls the boat and set it sail ?Would he catch the fish? Can you imagine him spouting and contemplating the dangers of the sea or