31 Days: #31 Letting go

She was so old and so sick and I knew we only had a few minutes left with her, but they told us she could still hear. So I got down beside her face, that face I knew it would break my heart not to see anymore, and I spoke the words before my chances ran out. No one ever loved me in quite the way you did, and I want to thank you. Why did I hold the words in until just shy of too late? But I could've been 110 and I still wouldn't have been ready to let her go.

Not too many months later, there was more letting go to do as I stood gazing at the shell of him one last time. My mind reeled and emotions raged wild, but mostly I was just broken. And in that moment I learned it all over again, only this time in deeper and more gut-wrenching ways. The biggest battle is in letting go.

Thirty-one days of battles and I could go on forever if I had the time and the tenacity for it. But as I wrap things up on this thirty-first day of October, it also happens to be my firstborn's eighteenth birthday.

Talk about letting go.

This is new for me, relaxing my hold on this being created and grown inside of me. This child who when born from my body took a part of me with her. And now there's a good-sized chunk of my heart that'll go wherever she decides to take it, down whatever path He leads her, even if to the ends of the earth.

As a sixth grader she started in with, "I want to be a missionary, and I want to go to Africa!" and everything in me screamed "NO!". But her wise grandfather (my father) said I mustn't discourage it. So I've had six long lightning-fast years to make peace with the idea, to come to understand that she's not really my child at all but His child. And He put her here to fulfill His calling upon her life.

So here I am in another season of letting go. But this is where it gets the hardest it's been yet, especially since she's half-way out the door already and singing her heart out about it. And to think, only yesterday her adulthood seemed a thousand years away.

This relentless tug on my heart may never let up, but it's a tug that pulls me to Him and forces me to pay attention as He shows me His ways and teaches me trust. So once again, I'll simply let go ...

and let God.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28




May 1999

 


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October 2009

 

 




Madison & Lulu - October 2011

 

258. the smile on her face

259. the smile in her heart

260. her present came in on time after all

261. chocolate cake for breakfast

262. burrowing down in the covers on cold mornings

263. and I didn't have to pay for the air conditioning

264. because it's finally cold outside

265. Rangers made it to the World series

266. his foot isn't broken

267. what I thought was strep was only a cold

268. I'm going to Blissdom!

269. my new phone is coming in today

270. an email from the Nester ... yes, the Nester!!

271. a fun pep rally

272. a lazy dog

273. a lazy Saturday morning

274. Instagrams - so much fun:)

275. I'm going on a shopping trip with Jace this week and we're gonna have a blast! Amen.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

Thanks for sticking with me this month. <3

31 Days: #30 I don't like following directions.

I'll do almost anything to get out of reading instruction manuals. I find them intimidating because I'm not a technical-type person at all. That's why I'm a better cook than I am a baker. When you cook, you can just throw any amount of anything in and it usually turns out okay. But with baking you have to be way too precise. You have to follow directions, and step-by-step anything makes me crazy.

I bought a really good camera this past summer, and it's so fancy I can't even use it. I have no idea what all the buttons and switches and dials and settings are for, and the complicatedness of it has forced me to actually read the manual. Which, incidentally, has only confused me more. I ended up buying a For Dummies book written specifically for this model of camera (ugh-an even bigger manual).

But despite my aversion to following directions, there's one Instruction Manual I've learned to appreciate.

As with most manuals, I avoided reading it for quite some time. But this Manual was written in a style very different from that of any other manual I've read before. Although I find parts of it mysterious and difficult to understand, I can tell it's been written especially for me. Its purpose is not to help me with a gadget or recipe or fix-it project, but to make my life easier and to teach me about love and to show me what grace means.

It's quite a Manual. But then, He's quite an Author.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #29 Crumbs in my butter

I love visiting with people, but when my house is the meeting place, I panic. And I mean panic. I am not ashamed to admit it--I have a phobia of house guests.

I wrote a 5-minute Friday post not too long ago about friends, and in it I mentioned how with a true friend you don't have to worry about picking the crumbs out of your butter before they come over for supper. That statement got me several comments (and even one from The Gypsy Mama herself!) because everyone understands that. And if you don't, I'm sorry but I can't have you over for supper.

But it's so true. When I'm expecting company, I start having my fit about an hour before they get there. Instead of rejoicing over my freshly-scrubbed bathrooms and newly vacuumed floors, I'm freaking out over the spaghetti splatters in the microwave or the dried up spills in the bottom of the fridge or the dust caked on tops of every baseboard in my house. Or the crumbs in my butter.

Visits from my parents don't count, of course. They dealt with the condition of my room for eighteen years and loved me anyway (despite the fact that our household ant problem growing up was probably all my fault).  So I don't even get out of my pajamas or throw dishes in the sink or make the kids stuff their junk out of sight when I know it's just my parents stopping by.

But generally speaking, hosting people really stresses me out. And I don't want to not have people over just to avoid the stress. I'll just have to learn to let some things go and just have them over anyway. And pray for the gift of hospitality.

I'd like to be a great entertainer. The Lord has given me a home surpassing anything I ever expected given my current situation, and I want to share it.  Just know that if you ever see crumbs in my butter, I count you as a really close friend. :)

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #28 An ugly-green color

Sometimes I covet my neighbor. All kinds of things I'm jealous of ... cute purses, big homes, amazing vocal talent, skinny bodies, cute clothes on skinny bodies, neat homes, homes that look neat even when they're messy, literally all kinds of things. I can't give too many more personal examples of my jealousy because it's too embarrassing. 

But I will admit that right now I'm having a fit because I can't go to the  Relevant Conference. I keep following the tweets and instagrams of all the ones who are there, and I want to be there, too. It's even in Harrisburg, PA, where I think you get to eat a lot of chocolate. I wrote a post a while back showcasing One Verse (a wonderful cause to end Bible poverty which I support myself), but in writing that post I was competing for a highly sought-after ticket to Relevant.

I didn't win. But out of curiosity, I subscribed to the ticket-winner's blog, and it turns out she is a hilarious writer. I was just catching up on some blogpost reading today and I stumbled across a post she wrote about her preparation for the conference. Of course my ears {eyes} perked right up.

As my kelly-green self read her words, I was astounded by how the Lord made a way for her to go. I mean, literally blown away. So much so that I'm not even jealous anymore because there's no doubt this girl is supposed to be at Relevant. And for whatever reason it just wasn't the year for me to be there, perhaps because I wasn't even a blogger until after the tickets already sold out. Anyway.

So as I kept reading this girl's blog for a bit, a more recent post amazed me in an even bigger way. You would not believe the stuff that's happened to keep her home from Relevant, all just confirmation that she's on the right path. I'm excited to see what happens with The Poorganic Life (what a clever title). I predict that big things are ahead for her! Anyway, I'm not jealous anymore and I'm sorry I ever was. 

I'm still sad not to be there, too, but it's not like He doesn't bless me beyond measure every single day without taking me from my kids and my job right in the middle of the fall semester. Or that's how I'm trying to feel, anyway. Okay, so maybe I'm still a tad bit envious of all those lucky bloggers at Relevant right now, but I'm trying. It ain't easy being green. :)

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #27 Falling short as a mom

The other morning we got half-way to school and I noticed that #4's hair looked like a bird's nest. So if his hair was undone I figured other things were, too. I soon found out he didn't brush his teeth, either. I didn't check to see if he was wearing socks because I didn't even want to know.

Those what-kind-of-mother-am-I thoughts hit me hard during moments such as these, thoughts like how I've not taught my children great organizational skills. How I've not modeled wise time management. How I fear they'll grow up to freak out the in the same ways I do.

I worry when they grow up their houses will look like their rooms. And smell like their rooms. I cringe thinking their socks might be pink for the rest of their lives. And how when they think back to Sunday dinners they might only remember bowls of cereal.

But later in the day I read a prayer a mother prayed over her children and one line moved me to tears. May they be Your disciples.

And I realized then that this is all I really want for my kids. May they be His disciples. Even if I do fall short as their mother, what does it matter because all I really want is for them to know Jesus and to follow Him all the days of their lives. 

And by the grace of God they will, in spite of an imperfect upbringing filled with pink socks, bird-nest hair, and cereal for supper. Lord, may they all grow up to follow You.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #26 The allure of gossip

A gathering of women usually means good conversation, and it can get so lively at times we end up competing to be heard. Isn't it fun, then, when we have something so good to say that it silences all mouths in the room and draws attention immediately?

You see their eyes grow big. They sit forward in their chair a little. And if it's something really good, you might even get a little gasp.

It's the reaction of others that compels us to reveal our juicy tidbits to each other, and this kind of gossip makes me sick. It's childish and indulgent and sinful, and I usually have no trouble staying away.

But what I do struggle with is letting gossip enter my one-on-one conversations. And that's because telling secrets is fun. In fact, the only thing more fun than telling them is hearing them. At least I take comfort in the fact that I'm not purposefully malicious when I'm talking to a friend.

But then again, what gossip isn't malicious? I like to tell myself it's innocent, especially if I'm talking to someone I know I can trust. Or someone who would never repeat what I'm telling them. Or maybe I'm simply sharing the information with this particular person for their own good. Or maybe for my own good. Or better yet, for the good of the person I'm talking about. 

This kind of gossip is also childish and indulgent and sinful. And it ought to make me just as sick.

The thing is, we can be taught our entire lives that gossip is wrong, but we don't understand just how hurtful it can be until we become the one they're talking about. 

So may the Lord God Almighty protect me from the allure of gossip. May He convict me like crazy when I'm tempted to engage in idle conversation, and may He grace me with enough self-control to keep my tongue on a leash when I'm all but bursting with juicy stories to tell.

Besides, they get into the habit of being idle and going about from house to house. And not only do they become idlers, but also gossips and busybodies, saying things they ought not to. 1 Timothy 5:13 NIV

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #25 An obsession with retro

If it's reminiscent of an earlier time, I'm instantly drawn to it.

I love looking in stores that sell relics from the past, or eating in retro-inspired restaurants. My dream would be to sip on a soda from Mayberry's Soda Fountain, or to pop a piece of candy in my mouth sold to me by Nels Oleson of Oleson's Mercantile. Or to have a burger and fries then do the sock-hop at Al's Diner. And oh, how I would love to eat a meal made especially for me by June Cleaver.

I've pushed my kids to play with Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, Strawberry Shortcake, and Slinkies because I want them to play with the same things I did.

I could spend way too much money on the kind of tennis shoes I used to wear or dresses designed decades ago. I get a thrill out of my girls wearing leg warmers or side ponytails or those bright 80s colors I used to be able to pull off so well.

Just this week I almost bought myself an alligator shirt (formerly Izod/now Lacoste), but I resisted because they've gotten crazy-expensive. Who knew that cute little alligator would one day cost so much? But I've wanted one of those shirts my whole life.

Last weekend I hung these little diamond doorknobs hooks all around my house. I love anything that reminds me of my grandmother's house. And speaking of Grandma, I love retro shoes and old jewelry, too. It was all so much prettier back then, and today nothing completes an outfit like accessories that take you back to the wonder years.

By the way, want to meet Grandma? Here she was at nineteen. How could I not be taken with this outfit and hat and hair?

I've seen the new {old} styles of eyeglasses coming back around. I'm anxious for a new year that brings new insurance so I can buy new frames. Soon they'll be calling me Miss Buddy Holly.

I get those chain emails from time to time talking about how great it was living back in the good ol' days and it makes me wish I could've been there, too.

But as much as I love history, I sometimes think my obsession with all things retro has less to do with a fondness for history and more to do with a longing for an easier time. Memories are precious, but if I'm not careful, my fascination with the past can mess with my ability to find contentment in the present.

I know if I'd lived in an earlier time, life would have seemed just as hard. And in many ways, harder. Still, retro is cool--as long as I don't let myself forget to enjoy the now. :)

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #24 Table for one {and turning 40)

I've been writing about my battles for twenty-three days straight, and I'm feeling the burn. So for this post I think I'll rehash a battle or two. I did something over the weekend that I thought would make me cry but didn't.

Did I mention I turned forty on Saturday? {Goodness, it's still hard to see it in print.} I wouldn't let anyone make me a cake since we've been trying to eat well, but everyone showered me with lots of surprises and attention so I was fine with the no-cake thing.

Until Saturday evening, when I had myself a pity party. It had been a quiet day at home (which I loved), but in the early evening hours I got a little lonely. Everyone ended up being either sick or busy so I knew I wouldn't be going out like I'd planned, and I decided I wanted a bite of cake for my fortieth birthday after all.

But I wanted to stay on my diet, and also I feared going out alone would be too depressing. But since I'm forty now and all grown up, I decided that what the heck, I'd just go out anyway.  So I headed to a vegan restaurant in Ft. Worth I've been wanting to try. Plus, I knew they would have cake because it's also a bakery. 

I felt kind of proud of myself going in there alone. And to my surprise, I actually had fun! The waitstaff is friendly and quirky and interesting, and my waiter's name was Baggins. He educated me on the menu and made some recommendations and made a big deal about my birthday and all. 

I had the spiral burger and and chips and salsa and nacho cheese (except it's not really cheese but cashew-based and you can't believe how good it was). It was all just delicious!

Baggins filled me in on dessert choices, I decided on a chocolate-raspberry cake ball and a peanut butter cup. I learned that I could totally be a vegan and still satisfy my chocoholic cravings.

And here I am with my fortieth birthday cake ball (pic courtesy of Baggins). Time to stuff it in!

YUM! I feel like I've been initiated into a new club or something. An over-40 club, and also maybe a club of  "single people who have the guts to dine out alone".

So, in this post, I actually conquered three battles. I turned forty without a freak-out, I embraced my singleness and dined out alone, and I did it all with messy-but-not-frizzy hair. :) 

242. a crazy-long Sunday afternoon nap

243. red beans and rice in a crock pot

244. my new bedroom rearrangement

245. my cross wall

246. they had a fun sleepover

247. and while they were here, they moved my treadmill upstairs

248. which I prayed might somehow be accomplished (thank You, Lord)

249. even cooler mornings

250. a dozen roses

251. enough Amazon gift cards for a Kindle Fire

252. a zillion Facebook birthday wishes

253. hilarious birthday cards

254. sweet kids who know how to help me have a really good day

255. a thousand balloons in my office

256. quiet Saturdays
257. The Spiral Diner and Bakery of Fort Worth, Texas

257. turning 40 wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Amen.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #23 The burden of unforgiveness

I got an email recently from a reader that said something like, "I read your stories, but I still don't know exactly what happened."

That's because I've never written about what actually happened. And I'm not sure why because if we could meet for coffee I would tell you everything. I would tell you that it wasn't an accident or an illness, but a choice. A selfish decision that wrought untold devastation upon our family. A hasty act that left me a widow and his children fatherless.

He took his own life. And when he did, it changed ours forever. I couldn't have known how hard it would be to forgive something so huge. Hurting me is one thing, but hurting my children? The agony of that reaches depths I never imagined.

I couldn't have understood how it feels having a wound that never really heals. A wound where you never know who or what is going to knock the scab off and then you have the mess to deal with all over again. A thousand times over, again.

I couldn't have realized how utterly beyond my control this life really is. How people you love and need and depend on can leave you in cruel ways, just like that and it's over and there's no hope of closure.

Yet the Lord says I must forgive, and I know it's more for my good than for the good of a person who'll never know this side of Heaven. Unforgiveness is an awfully heavy burden to carry.

So I ponder how my children have suffered, and then I remember how I hurt His Child but how He forgives me for it. I think about this wound that wears no band-aid and how it keeps me running to the Great Physician whose healing love does miracles. I reflect on how the pain of it all has taught me to relinquish control to the only One who knows what He's doing.

And one thing He's doing now is teaching me to be more like Him. So I will follow my Healer's example and forgive. Not only for one selfish act on one day, but for all future hurts, holes, sorrows, anger, bad memories, everything yet to happen as a result. I forgive him for it all, in the name of Jesus.

{I feel lighter already.}

"...Forgive, and you will be forgiven .... A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Luke 6:37-38

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #22 Bemoaning my age

I had a freak-out moment on my thirtieth birthday, and it was all because I happened to look at a teenager's hands up beside my own and I realized how much I'd aged. I went straight to Walmart and bought anti-wrinkle cream (but for my hands only because I didn't care about my face yet). Since that was such a hard birthday, I figured there would never be another one like it. But I was wrong. Another difficult birthday has come, and I've been wallowing a little.

Okay, a lot. This birthday is way worse than thirty. This birthday means that half my life is over--or the good half, anyway. And if that was the good half, I'm not very excited about what comes next.

My problem is, I tend to fall into the trap of believing the enemy's lies that I've already lived my life, that I've spent all my chances, that this is all there is. And what a deceptive foe he is, because despite how I'm feeling right now, I know Grace and I know Him well. I know He's the God of endless chances, and I know that with Him the best is yet to be. So I choose even in my faintheartedness to believe what I know.

Today I am forty. I'm astounded just seeing the words in print. Just yesterday my mom was getting black balloons sent to her for her fortieth birthday, and now it's my turn.

Forty years in the wilderness, and I'm tired of wandering. I'm weary of wasting time. But no matter how many years we've squandered away, the good news is that the day we start anew with Him is the first day of the rest of our eternal lives. The time we've lost amounts to nothing in the scope of an eternity spent with Him.

I look at elderly women sometimes who have been walking with the Lord for most of their lives, and I think to myself, I want that to be me. Today brings me one day closer than yesterday. So here's to the next forty years. No more wandering for me, and I am thankful.

Your sun shall no longer go down, nor shall your moon withdraw itself. For the Lord will be your everlasting light, and the days of your mourning shall be ended. Isaiah 60:20

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #21 Trash-talk

We were in a really bad car accident a few years ago. A drunk driver broadsided us and flipped us on our side and totaled my Tahoe. Eight of us were in the vehicle, but only one of the kids was taken by ambulance then released the same night.

So we all walked away with a few bruises, a couple of seatbelt burns, a little glass in one arm, two non-concussion head bumps, and lots of soreness. But no one died, and it was a miracle.

I was recounting the events to a friend a few days later and I said, "I saw that truck coming toward us and there was nothing we could do so I just said 'Lord, please protect us.'"

But my son heard me telling the story and goes, "No you didn't, Mama. You said 'Crap!'"

Oops.

I guess it could've been worse, but still. It's interesting what I actually said vs. what I thought I said. Or what I wish I'd said. I want to be known for calling upon God in those kinds of moments. Not uttering crude, pointless words.

Taming my tongue is an old battle of mine, not only in the context of speaking hurtful words, but also in uttering profanities that happen to slip out before something more constructive has a chance to. I have a feeling there's more trash-talk coming out of my mouth than I realize, especially in times of extreme emotion. Just the thought of that bothers me because I know it only takes mere seconds of a poor witness to ruin our testimony.

The only way I know to control this tongue of mine is to let Him control it. So I invite Him to do just that as I determine to forsake idle talk and seek to please Him in every word I utter.

But now you yourselves are to put off all these: anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy language out of your mouth. Do not lie to one another, since you have put off the old man with his deeds, and have put on the new man who is renewed in knowledge according to the image of Him who created him. Colossians 3:8-10

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #20 Morning grouchiness

It's not that I'm not a morning person. I like to get up early and have some time to myself while it's still quiet, and I'm usually relaxed and in an okay mood at first. But once the house wakes up and the rush is on, all my peace flies out the window.

This morning I actually got irritated at the twins for growing. I was unprepared for this Texas cold snap since I never watch the news, so we're just now realizing that none of their jacket sleeves are long enough. And when they showed me, I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth a little.

So a few minutes later we all scrambled to the car in hopes that we had everything we needed, but I was still in a tizzy because we were late. As I drove through a school zone, a crossing guard waved at me (as she does every single day) and it irritated me that anyone would be so happy that early in the morning.

Then we got out of the car and Twin B realized he'd forgotten his P.E. clothes for the third day in a row. He's already lost so many points for not dressing out that his coach says he's in danger of failing (yes, P.E.), so I told him I guessed he'd just have to repeat sixth grade since he can't remember to bring his clothes. He got a little frantic until Twin A offered him her clothes since she had health instead of P.E. today and didn't need to wear them. He gladly agreed to borrow her feminine athletic apparel, dried up girl sweat and all.

I was impressed at how sweet she was being to her brother, and it tugged at my heartstrings a little (since after all, I'm the mom who's too scattered to make sure her ADD child remembers to bring everything he needs for school). And suddenly I felt really bad about my terrible mood.

I guess I'm not a morning person after all. How is it that I can step right out of the presence of the Lord and into a bad attitude with the closing of my Bible? So many daily struggles go right back to that old battle of flesh vs. Spirit. As I spend time in the Word each morning, I think I'll make my prayer to soak up more Jesus so I'll spread less morning ick.

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #19 People-pleasing

I read the story over a year ago, but last weekend I finally saw Hollywood's rendition of The Help. What a wonderful, yet shocking depiction of 1960s American society.

For me one of the most heartbreaking scenes was when Skeeter's mother, Charlotte Phelan, fired their family's beloved maid Constantine right in the middle of entertaining luncheon guests. The hostess was embarrassed because her maid's gutsy daughter happened to visit at the wrong time and insisted on coming in through the front door rather than the back.

I cringed as the horrified members of that snobbish circle pressured Mrs. Phelan to "handle" her help appropriately. I clenched my jaw as she considered the unthinkable, and I silently plead with her not to throw the poor woman out.

Then I grieved watching the heartbroken old Constantine make her way out of that home for the last time, betrayed and rejected by the family she'd served so faithfully for decades. I hated Mrs. Phelan for succumbing to the pressure of those cruel and heartless people whose opinions shouldn't have mattered but did.

But then I thought about how many times I've done much the same thing. Just as Mrs. Phelan chose pleasing her snobbish guests over doing what was right, I often fight to ignore that still small Voice in an effort to please those around me. It's never easy to make the wrong choice, but sometimes I do anyway. How messed up is that?

May we all have the guts to take a stand for what's right, no matter who will hear it or how much they might disagree. And regardless of the pressure we feel from those around us, may we never, ever forsake our desire to please Him above anyone else.

Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10

Stockett, Kathryn. The Help.  New York: Putnam, 2009.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #18 Revisiting Egypt

It's a dry, thirsty land full of danger and way more valleys than mountaintops. It's a hopeless place of entrapment, and when I was there I thought I'd never get out. At times I fear I'll end up in Egypt again, but not in a physical sense. My Egypt is in my memories.

It's an easy place to return to--a downhill trip all the way. Some days I struggle to stay planted where I am now, always haunted by this slippery slope where at the bottom waits that old familiar pit of bondage and despair. No way do I want to go back there.

It's hard sometimes, accepting His grace. It's hard realizing He's made me new. I really am free of those detestable chains that had me bound for so long. The enemy wants to keep the truth of that grace from sinking into my heart. Oftentimes the world does, too. And so the deceptive whispers persist, always taunting me ... It wasn't so hard back then, was it? So few battles to fight, don't you remember? Wasn't the old life easier?

Then I consider it. I remember how little determination it took to let my flesh rule. I recall what it was like bearing a much lighter burden of responsibility. I ponder how oblivious I used to be to the wicked one's vicious schemes. How he left me alone back then since I wasn't a threat to him. How it must've pleased him, what little time I spent living for Jesus.

So the devil was pleased, the Lord was heartbroken, and I was miserable. No, the old life wasn't easier. So no matter how weary I grow and no matter how easy it might seem to let go just for awhile, I won't do it. Instead I'll hold fast to the Rock of Ages, the One who stands firmly planted here in the Promised Land.

And a bountiful land it is, full of beauty and blessing where flows an abundance of Living Water. This is my true homeland, and I'll keep on clinging and dwell here forever and never be thirsty again.

Instead of their shame My people will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace they will rejoice in their inheritance; and so they will inherit a double portion in their land, and everlasting joy will be theirs. Isaiah 61:7

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.