5340 Davis Blvd. North Richland Hills, TX 76180. OPEN HOUSE Saturday, January 3, 2026 at 2pm! Come learn about us and tour the woodshop! Onsite REGISTRATION!
The Open Scroll is a place where boys ages 13-17 can work alongside craftsmen and learn woodworking skills in order to create original products.
The machines we will use are safe, focusing on the scroll saw. We will also be using jigsaws, drill press, and various hand tools. Student woodworkers will also learn how to sand wood, including using hand planers, as well as the art of staining wood. (We have never had an injury)
Classes are on Saturdays (subject to change) and last two hours. The course runs for six weeks. Students will receive a certificate after completing ten of the twelve hours and a mastery of skills assessment.
If you are interested in being a part of this class, please send a message to me at one of the following:
cell 817.247-2215
email: joneslamarhowell@gmail.com
Thanks! Hope to see you soon!
Jones Lamar Howell, retired teacher
what we need: small tables for scroll saws 33-39 inches tall. One-inch softwood or hardwood boards. Plywood up to 3/4 inch. (No treated lumber). Decorative wood projects or paintings for the walls. A 32-inch door. 1×4 pine for baseboard.
I’ll never forget going to Pompei, Italy. I saw figures of people who had perished in the volcanic eruption. They had once been covered in lava and ash. Centuries later, excavators found hollow places in the ruins. They poured in plaster of Paris, waited, then chipped away the lava rock. They found perfectly cast images of the people in their death poses.
I’ve felt similar hollowness before. There have been people in my life, and over time and something happened in our relationship. They disappeared, either in the lava of resentment, the ash of forgetfulness, or simply by the passage of time. Years later I am saddened by so many losses.
But, enter the Holy Spirit! He comes along and pours the plaster of grace and purpose into those hollows of my life. I lift out the image of those people and put them in the museum of remembrance. I’m thankful I had them in my life, and I’ll never forget the shape of their unique self, the contours of their personality, and the smoothness of their comforting touch.
So, I’m not hollow. Because God fills all things: all the spaces, all the gaps, all the longings.
So, this Christmas, when I miss people, and YOU miss people, remember: God has a large supply of plaster of Paris.
My wife picks out the olives in a Greek salad and gives them to me. I think we do that in church too. We pick out the pungent, flavorful, and potentially embarrassing things and eliminate them from our spiritual meal. We don’t employ the gifts of the Spirit, sing in the Spirit, get on our knees, pray aloud, preach about Hell or the Second Coming.
We have Greek salad without the Greek elements. We make noise. We have the crunch and our own choice of dressing. We’re in control of the ingredients. I’m not saying let’s get out of control with anchovies or jalapeños – like handling snakes or always needing to fall under the power.
But, dang – the crunch, crunch, crunch of the predictable!
Well, Paul did say, “In Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek,” so, I guess we’ll have to stick to the common Caesar salad, and “do as the Romans (all socially-acceptable churches) do.”
How about some purple onions! Hallelujah, brother! Did you feel that!
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