On the verge of a migraine, day 2.
I’ve been more than tempted to just say, “Not this week…” Staring off into space thinking about where we’ll go next, my blurred vision focused on a book shelf. Clearing on a black binding, I suddenly realized the season.
I drew it from its spot, wedged firmly between other versions of the same book in different formats and different languages. Flipping open the cover, I remembered why I had this treasure. The volume that caught my attention, didn’t originally belong to me. It does now, by default.
I’ll stress this up front. My love gave me gifts. The gift of acceptance, the gift of care; gifts of hope and light that meant a lot to me then, but even more to me now. The greatest of all these – love – has always been there, remains and endures.
I reiterate these truths from a season past:
I don’t want to own false grief.
I’m not happy about losing Jeff. I’m not angry, either.
I’m not questioning, “Why?” I know why, and I’m thankful.
I don’t want to own false hope.
I want to have faith that where I am headed will someday make sense to me, and maybe to some others.
I don’t want to own the responsibility of false vision, knowing all that lies ahead.
I want to affirm that life’s adventure is a gift, gladly opening each day as such.
I don’t want to own a false sense of security.
I want to believe with my whole soul that, as paths change, they will continue to be clearly marked in my rear-view mirror – under the direction of the only GPS necessary: God’s Positioning System.
Ephesians 2:6: For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. (NIV)
I do believe. I do believe I’ve been gifted. I do believe I’ve been gifted, many times over.
Quote for the Week: