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Archive for September, 2011

I watch the young Drifter

His pants riding too low.

He was pierced and tattooed

On his skin, what a show.

 

And what’s that he’s wearing?

Something nicer if you please.

By the way things are looking

I doubt he speaks Christianese.

 

In Heaven it’s painless

A place free from tears.

And he might be eligible

If he’d stitch up those ears.

 

If he acted like we do

Then we might take him right in.

We would tell Him about Jesus

Who would then quash his sin.

 

But first he should clean up,

And get some new clothes.

Cut off that hair

And un-pierce that nose.

 

Our deacon approaches

And we all sigh relief

After all, He could be a robber,

A thug, or a thief.

 

The deacon engaged him

And they chatted away.

He was welcome at church

But just not today.

 

The man stood and nodded

Then held out His hand,

As the music began flowing

From our heavenly band.

 

The deacon recoiled

From the mans proffered hand.

Then pointed at the door and said “leave”

Not a request, a demand.

 

Who would do such a thing

He wanted to know?

To pierce your own wrists

Just to put on a show

 

So the Drifter just left

Sadness etched on His face

As the memory of the Drifter

We tried to erase.

 

Then the service was held

And we worshipped so bold.

Today’s lesson on Love,

As the scriptures unfold.

 

But to seek out the lost,

The sad, broke, and hurt.

We must look for opportunities,

Being ever alert.

 

As I left church that day, I vowed

To keep my eyes wide.

Looking for someone

That I might give a ride.

 

But as I drove home that day,

The only one I did see,

Was the dirty pierced Drifter, 

“No way” He isn’t riding with me.

 God Bless-JFT

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I finished things up for the day, closed up shop, and walked across the street to the livery stable to collect my ride home. Jenny is a mule, not a nice steed or a spry gelding, but a mule, a utility piece of transportation. My father had purchased Jenny from a friend of his soon after she was broken. She was still just a yearling then, and he loved her like family for the last two years of his life. When he passed, he left her to me because he wanted me to have reliable transportation that was paid for, so I tried to seem grateful as I accepted the reins of the hideous creature and led her back to my home.

As time went by, I would go to work each day in the local township, and I would ride Jenny on the roads and lanes that lead to my little shop. My shop is not a place that provides great wealth, but rather only provides just enough to make it as long as I stay busy always. That is why my father reasoned that I of all of his children should be blessed with this cursed creature, because I was the poorest of them all.

Oddly enough, it was on Jenny’s back that I decided to take a new route to town one day, and I first saw the horse of my dreams. I rode past a horse ranch that I had never seen before, and then saw the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. I saw the horse of my dreams.

The horse was a shiny chocolate black, and in stark contract to the color on his body, his mane and tail were blonde. I came to a screeching halt on Jenny when I first saw the steed grazing behind the pretty white fence. I dismounted from Jenny and left her standing in the road, running to the fence. I stood in awe, gazing at the horse of my dreams for the first time. The horse looked up at me and against all odds walked over to me,  placing its head over the fence allowing me to stroke it’s mane. This horse of unbelievable grace and beauty was not only stunningly beautiful, but kind and approachable to boot. I stroked his head and ears, mane and neck, and thus became my daily ritual.

I began to leave for work a little early each day, and get home a bit later each afternoon because I enjoyed sitting at the fence and spending time with the horse, dreaming of what life would be like if he were only mine. One day the horse’s owner was in the pasture feeding the horse a carrot, so he came over and said hello. I asked him what kind of horse this was, and he said it was a FoxTrotter, and that they were very rare and valuable. The following day, when I was in town, I began to research the horse and discovered that the breed was in fact very expensive. It was so expensive, that I was immediately assured that I would never own one, it was very much beyond my reach. If I were to sell everything I owned, I would not have half of the money needed to purchase the horse.

That evening, I stopped at the fence to see my friend the horse and stroke its mane, when again his master came out to the pasture. I have noticed you coming by in the morning and in the afternoons each day to see my horse; you must really like him a lot then? Yes, I do sir, I said, but I will never be able to own a horse like this, because he is far to fine of a horse for my budget, I cannot afford him. The horse’s master nodded quietly and looked at the ground thoughtfully for a moment. You know son, if you would like, I would accept payments from you over a period of time if you were really serious about wanting this horse. I looked the man in the eyes and then stuck my hand out and shook his saying, yes sir, you have yourself a deal.

The year was great, I named the fine steed Nero, and rode him to town proudly each day. I would take the long way, so that I could ride from one end of town to the other, and began to leave early, so that I could show the horse off in the evening. People would come out of their shops to see us go by, Nero was so beautiful. Winter came, and I still rode Nero each day, leaving Jenny in her stall, barely remembering to feed her. I would make payments to the horse breeder faithfully at the beginning of the month. When I made the twelfth payment, I was happy, knowing I was one fifth towards having Nero paid for. One morning, as we left for town on an icy morning, Nero slipped on the ice and we went down hard

The horse doctor came from town, and told me the painful truth, Nero’s leg was broken, the best thing to do, the most humane thing to do would be to put Nero down. I was stunned, his value as a horse was now gone, my beautiful horse was now useless, and I hadn’t yet made the thirteenth payment.

Jenny pulled the wagon with me driving it under cover of darkness, we drove quietly, save for Nero’s occasional whine. We came to the horse breeders driveway, and it was now mid night or so, and my faithful mule Jenny and I were able to remove the FoxTrotter horse from my trailer, and placed him alongside the driveway.

The horse had no value, it was worthless now so why should I have to pay the full price I would normally pay for a healthy horse. The horse could not even be used for breeding now, it had become a drain, so the trainer could have it back, it was his problem I reasoned, as I patted Jenny on the side of the neck and gave her a carrot. As we rode back home, I was so thankful my father had blessed me with the old girl.

This fictional story, while sad and unrealistic, is actually happening daily everywhere in America. Recently, I have had two Christian friends tell me that they are considering letting their houses go back because the value has dropped substantially. I personally believe that God expects us to be men and women of our word, and set an example. I just think giving a house back because it lost value is like giving a horse back because it broke a leg, what are your thoughts? God Bless-JFT

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I was absolutely terrified beyond anything that I could remember at that moment, but I wasn’t actually going over my memories really, but trust me, I was so scared I was literally shaking in my boots.

My brother and his son had gone to town. Spence, my nephew had gotten his first deer, and they took it in to the butcher, and to have dinner. I decided to stay by myself and do the evening hunt alone, so I had headed up this dark canyon, aptly named black canyon to look for a nice buck. I had my trusty 30.06-bolt action rifle, the one I have had since I was young, really young. I got it from a JC Penny’s catalog when I was a teen, and am still carrying it. My thoughts were, if it works, that’s what matters, right?

I hiked up the canyon as it wound higher and higher up into the mountains, watching, listening and waiting for my chance. Then I heard something, but it was around the bend I thought, so I stepped it up a bit, going faster, yet trying to be sneakier if that makes sense (I have a picture of the Elmer Fudd sneaking up on that wabbit, that is probably what it looked like). Nothing, I see nothing. I wonder if the deer smelled me and boogied on down the line, probably I think, and then I hear it, movement up to my left on the canyon side. I am surprised to see two black bear cubs just up to my left, looking back at me. I instantly think they are about the neatest thing I have ever seen, the first Arizona bears I have seen in the wild before, and then they do it, they start. They begin bawling. No, no little bears, I am not gong to hurt you I think, but it is too late. I hear her coming long before I see her, the sound of branches breaking and loud huffing off to my right as I begin lock up mentally at the implications of what was about to happen.

She exploded from the trees in a dead run straight at me, not toward them, but at me. I fumble with my rifle trying to swing it up and knowing I was toast, she was too close and I was too slow. Then, when she was about thirty feet from me, she stood up on her hind legs, and screamed at me in a voice that sends goose bumps up my spine now, more than fifteen years later in just recalling it. Then, she dropped down and stared at me, then at her cubs to her right, then back at me. I now had my crosshairs trained on her forehead, but who was I fooling? If she charged I would have probably missed, and that would be it. I was really upset at my decision to buy a cheaper bolt-action rifle over an automatic right now. We stared at one another and no one moved. How long had it been now two, three minutes, a half hour, it seemed like an hour, but was probably under five minutes and she still wasn’t moving, and neither was I.

I decided someone needed to give, so I began to “very slowly” step backward while holding the rifle on her. She still didn’t charge, so I continued, really hoping her husband wasn’t behind me, and luckily he wasn’t. Finally I backed around the corner, and began to run backward, looking behind me, then back toward her. I kept running till I reached camp, I was done hunting for the day.

Now that goes into the box of “scariest things that have ever happened to me” that I keep tucked safely in my heart. It is trumped by things like, “when my youngest daughter was really sick one time, and we were afraid she wasn’t going to make it.”

It is a funny thing though, there is nothing like an experience like that to clarify what is important to you in life. Your heart is racing a hundred miles a minute, every sense is attune, and when it is all over, you know that you will be forever changed just a little bit. And although you hope you never have to face it again, you wouldn’t change a thing about that experience, even if you could, because there are not too many times in our life that we are more focused than when we are facing possible death.

Sometimes I do feel like a cat, and that I have been extended more lives than I am due, and it once caused me to wonder why. I believe it is the same reason God still nudges me with the Holy Spirit, because there is something I still need to do here, and I haven’t done it yet. It is all about the task at hand, it is not about me getting a chance to live my life out in full and enjoy the golden years, it is always about the task. God sent me the bear to help me to become what He wants me to be, a fearless servant for Him, and I still fall far short of that.

Now I know not everyone is an outdoorsy, adrenaline junkie, type of person, who racks up all of these experiences in their lives. But one thing I do know is that God wants us to stand strong in the face of temptation, God wants us to stand strong when the devil puts the hammer down on us. And one thing I know, is that if we never leave our comfort zone and wander out into the scary places, we will not be prepared when the time of testing comes. I think God sends everyone bears to stare in the face, but someone’s bear may be cancer, or the loss of a child. Someone’s bear may be a handicap, or a psychological disorder. The irony about my bear is that it actually is a real bear, and the truth is, I would rather face my “actual” bear any day than to face the trials that many of you have to face each day. The people who inspire me in life are those who face trials of every kind, yet find the strength to encourage others rather than to complain about their ills.

One of the things I fear most in life is rejection, I want people to like me, I don’t want to feel inferior. So when I am out and about, and I see people that God places in my path for me to speak His Word to, I resist. I don’t want to run the risk of this person telling me to get lost, or mind my own business, and then I remember. I have stared a ticked off mama bear in the eyes for five minutes. Then I have the courage to tell them what I shouldn’t have had to even consider, I tell them about God. And do you know what, holding up hands now, counting on both hands the times people have rejected me.

In the last month-zero, in the last year-zero, in the last five years-one

I can live with that, I am so thankful for my bear.

God Bless-JFT

This is a true story.

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I am grateful, so grateful for all that God has blessed me with. And while I have a life that I believe is far much more comfortable than I deserve, those are not the things that I am choosing to thank God for today, because they are “things”. What I am thanking God for today is the many ways He has shown His love for me personally. And I want to rejoice as I tell you about them.

When even I gave up on myself, God never did. He shielded me from disaster when I didn’t care, when I even hoped for disaster because in my self-centeredness, I thought I would make a good martyr, He protected me from myself.

I thank God that He has steered me to people who are volumes of Spiritual knowledge and wisdom, and has given me a renewed desire to learn His will in ways I never even considered. He gave me the flexibility in my old dog ways to consider that maybe I didn’t in fact know everything that I thought I did, to consider that maybe my way was the wrong way. He gave me the courage to venture into unknown territories, places I was uncomfortable, even frightened, and he gave me the comfort of a Helper I never knew before. He gave me a Helper who knows far more than any onboard guidance system, a Helper that was actually a part of God Himself, a Helper known as the Holy Spirit.

Before I really understood anything about the Holy Spirit, I would pray, and wait for tangible results. Here you go God, now let’s see what you do with that. If you don’t answer my prayer, well I suppose it could be because I haven’t maybe been as good as I should have been, and He was holding a grudge. Or possibly, it wasn’t me, but some cosmic plan above everything I have the ability to understand, and God’s not answering the prayer just means Father knows best, right. All of my understanding revolved around “me” and my rewards based system of understanding, which again, always led back to me.

Here is the greatest reason for my insurmountable joy today, the joy and happiness that money or things could never buy. He still cares, He still loves me, and here is the unbelievable part, “He knows me”. HE KNOWS ME!!!!!!! He knows me, yet He still finds me worthy of being guided by the Spirit.

I don’t remember when, but sometime in the past, I quit believing in coincidences and began to “know” that when something out of the ordinary occurs, it is not an accident, but my Master working behind the scenes.

The older and older I get, the more stirrings I feel from the Spirit, and the more answers I get. When you feel the “nudge” of the Holy Spirit, there is no mistaking what it is, and every time I feel it, there is no longer any doubt about how to proceed. It is an arrow sign in a detour, one that leads away from a washed out bridge or a steep cliff face, or possibly into a clearing so that I can see a sunset that otherwise would not be visible. And here is the greatest news in the world, He still nudges me with the Spirit, He still loves me, despite everything I have done to Him and not done for Him.

I felt the latest spine chilling nudges from the Spirit just day before yesterday, and it tied some things together for me that were leaving me a bit confused. I had wondered about prayer, and our taking things to Him, offering up our protestations to Him when we wanted something. If God’s will is truly what I want, then why am I asking for Him to grant my will?

So, I had something that I was praying for, and wanted very badly, yet I wanted God to know that I would do my best to be accepting if it didn’t happen. Then this past week, when Sara Frankl began her final march to the Kingdom, I began to read many of her posts, and the one on surrendering spoke to me, and I knew a lesson was coming. This woman of God was burdened with severe pain, and a terminal disease that struck at the prime of her life, and she first tried to adapt begrudgingly to her change in circumstances. But that didn’t work, so she then tried something else, surrendering, to embrace the pain along with the blessings and the roses with the lemons. I find it curious that her posts were so insightful and encouraging, yet she was in more pain than anyone I know.

So, the moment of the epiphany came Saturday night during communion while I was praying. I had several people and things that I was praying about. I thought briefly about praying for that thing that I wanted to happen when the Spirit spoke into my heart and told me that God already knows what I want and I don’t need to tell Him again. Then He whispered into my heart the answer that I had been trying to find for so long. Surrender Jim, your surrender is what He wants. It all came together then, and the loose ends began to tie up. It all made sense now, warmth flooded my soul. So, I told God that I trusted Him, and that I was His to do with as he wished and I released my will to Him.

So, today I got my answer, and the answer was no. But the great news is that in finding this answer, God spoke to me again. He doesn’t lose interest in me, He always has time for me, He still whispers into my heart. I realized then that I am just fine in trusting Him, and I will follow Him anywhere. I realized that true freedom has finally arrived, dressed as surrender. God Bless-JFT

P.S. this song really sums it up for me!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8BBCYFAYRI&ob=av2e

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The other day, I was at work and was speaking with a co-worker. The co-worker was telling me about a meeting he had attended with some higher ups in the company, and he referred to them as 64’s I think. This is common in a quasi-governmental workplace, but I was bothered by it, so I asked him why he did that, referring to people by their pay grade. His response was that it signified them as great men of power, and their pay grade identified their level in relation to the top. It reminded me of a story that a very dear lifelong friend told me once.

This friend, we will call him Dean for privacy purposes, had become a Highway Patrolman. Over the years, he was promoted to the Governor security team, and received the same training at the same facility as the U.S. Secret service. When completed, he had all the same credentials as those who protect the President. Now the governor Dean served was an elitist in nature, spending his life in a blueblood environment, and he treated his security detail as furniture. Dean was professional about it and never let it get under his skin, he just focused on the job at hand.

Now every year, all of the governors in the US go to Washington, DC for a meeting with the President, and all of the security details are placed in a pool, so you will probably be protecting some other governor, and this year, such was the case. Dean was assigned to a new governor, and was surprised to find this man was vastly different from his own governor. The governor he was assigned to cover was constantly cracking jokes, and seemed good-natured. He asked about Dean’s family back home, asked about Dean’s kid’s, and they both discovered that they shared a love of hunting and a love of the outdoors. The governor even asked Dean if he was a Christian, and then they even talked about their faith. This was a new experience for Dean, he was used to working for someone who issued orders then sat back and waited to be obeyed, but this governor was different, he had character. Dean was professional throughout, but this governor did his best to get Dean to drop his defenses, and to a degree, Dean did.

As the time passed and the meetings with the President drew to an end, Dean was in a central area, I believe they were having a parting reception, when he heard his name called. He looked around, and he saw the governor he had been assigned to waving above the crowd, and making his way toward Dean. He shook Dean’s hand vigorously and told him what a pleasure it had been for him to meet and work with him during their time together, not referring to him as an underling, but as an equal. They parted, but it left a permanent mark on Dean, he was really impressed with this man of great power, who chose humility when given a choice. Dean never worked with the man again, but he has held him in high regard even since that time, and even followed his career a bit.

Now that governor has since retired, and occasionally hits the lecture circuit. A couple of years ago, this governor spoke at my daughter’s Christian university. She was on the team that served him his dinner, and afterwards he came over and spoke to my Daughter and her boyfriend. More than a decade after Dean had served this man, my daughter was now serving him. She said he was “cute” and so sweet, not arrogant at all, he won their hearts right away. He even put his arm around my daughters shoulder and took a picture with her, something you don’t get to do with an ex-governor very often, and she was honored.

I told my co-worker that I would email the picture to him, because it was cool I thought, and I told him then who the governor was, and he smiled. My point to all of this was that it doesn’t matter who you are in the world, what station you climb to, don’t forget that we are all just people, created equal in God’s eyes, and that when we reduce someone to no more than the pay grade they are at, we are really doing them a disservice. He agreed, he saw my point and the conversation ended well.

Abraham Lincoln said, “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.

Here is that picture of the governor that my friend and my daughter both served.

God Bless-JFT

This story is true

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The American dream. A good career, a nice house, 2.5 children (I never got that one either), two cars, a three car garage, a couple good vacations each year to decompress. Nothing wrong with this is there? This is the mantra I was raised with, the middle class American dream, if you work hard for it, you can achieve it. Push education because you cannot compete in the business world if you don’t, it is survival of the fittest you know. And don’t forget to go to church on the weekends, because that is what good folk do.

The problem I see with that dream is that it is for the most part a very self-centered dream. I was thinking the other day, that if I were able to meet Jesus for coffee, and ask Him what he thought of the American dream, he would get a sad look on His face and say “what do you think”. In Matthew 8:19-20, the caption for this section is called “The cost of following Jesus” under the NIV translation.  Then a teacher of the law came to him and said, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.”  Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Jesus was homeless from an earthly standpoint, relying on God to lead Him to those who would meet His needs. He also instructed His Apostles “not” to take supplies with them when they went on the road, but to trust that their needs would be met. They did, and their needs “were” met.

In the next scripture, He goes on to instruct one of His followers to let others bury his father, denoting to me the urgency of the message that needed to be spread. So, Jesus was sent to earth for several reasons. 1. To set an example for us on how we are to live our lives, when to show kindness, when it is okay to be angry, what to do when people refuse to hear the message. He set an example for how we are to live our lives. Now we will all fall short of doing His will always, but we are charged with giving it our best. 2. To be a sacrifice for us, to atone for our sins, bearing them on the cross, and to tear the veil of communication between us and God. 3. To conquer death and rise from the dead, leaving a testimony with all of the remaining Apostles. I can’t help but think that sometimes we have lost our way from the original American dream that this country was founded upon.

Those who founded our country did so that they may worship God in the way they felt was right. In Acts 2:44-47, this is how the church worked.  All the believers were together and had everything in common.  They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.  Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts,  praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

I love that, they were together and had everything in common. They broke bread together and they had each other’s backs. Do we see that today in our neighborhoods or in our churches? Do you see folks selling off the property they had intended to retire on to take care of the needs of others? Do you see people cutting back on their lifestyles with the intent of helping others? Acts two was given to us as a model for how we should live our lives, and we weren’t directed to help only fellow believers who had a need, but “anyone” who had a need. Our benevolence is a way that we can show our love to those who don’t believe, which will get their attention faster than anything else we can do.

I am not saying we need to sell everything we have and hit the road, but to consider seeking a better balance in our lives. Maybe it is time to start with the little things like getting a medium drink instead of a 44 ouncer, and save the money. Maybe have a stay-cation instead of a vacation next year, and put the money into someone with a need. Maybe aspire to giving more than ten percent, perhaps twenty, or twenty-five. One thing I know for certain is that I have never felt as good buying something for myself, as I have when giving to someone who needed it more than me. That feeling is awesome, especially if you can do it anonymously. Another certainty is this, If we keep doing what we are doing, we can be certain of the results.  

I love my country, but I think its founders had it right and we have just strayed a little too far from the original message behind the American Dream. I believe whether we know it or not, much of our life is surrounded by materialism and greed, and camouflaged by a message that we need to be good to ourselves, that we are “entitled”. Gaining affluence also comes with another even more dangerous side effect that most don’t see coming, apathy. When we begin to have the finer things, and we start to feel like we have arrived on the plain of financial security, we often begin to look on those who have less as less valuable people. This is a dangerous place for us to be, but if you look around, maybe even in the mirror, you will know what I am saying is true. We do measure ourselves and others by what we have, and what we have achieved, and I “know” this makes God sad. The great truth that I know is that through generosity and letting go of our worldly riches and relying on God, we truly become free. Acts 2 truly holds the answers for us to achieve the American Dream!

God Bless-JFT

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This is a post Sara did for a website she contributed to called “In Courage”. I wanted to repost it here because it contains volumes of wisdom.

I Surrender

Tags:  Courage, Everyday Faith, Hope

Strawberry Heart by saxon (flickr) The only part of launching my blog I didn’t enjoy was coming up with something for the unavoidable “About Me” section.

Despite the fact I was blogging about any and all aspects of my life, summing myself up in a few sentences seemed daunting. 

I wasn’t a wife or a mother. I had already given up my career and taken on a disability status. As I think is true with most people, I felt like I could say who I wasn’t much easier than who I was

Rather than mess with it, I wrote instead about what I wanted the blog to be for people. One of the lines was this:

This blog is about me, my life, my disease and learning to adapt to the changes life throws at all of us…”

When I read it again recently, the concept just didn’t sit right with me anymore. I remember typing it and believing it, but over the course of writing the blog my perspective changed greatly.

To me, adapting now feels a bit like a negative concept… like God and I have different ideas about my life, and by adapting I’m begrudgingly adjusting my view rather than surrendering to His. I’ve learned through the trial and error of life that I don’t want to adapt anymore. 

I want to be so present in my moments that adaptation isn’t necessary.

I have an autoimmune disease that has gradually stripped me of life as I knew it. I went from being a healthy, outgoing, talented individual who dove head first into life, to a person permanently confined to her home. I am in constant pain with limited amounts of movement, energy, and severely limited abilities.

It didn’t happen overnight, although sometimes it feels that way. Instead, I’ve spent the last fifteen years watching my life, as I knew it and as I dreamed it to be, slip from my grasp. I lived a number of those years fighting with all of my might to hang on to every piece I could.

I adapted sparingly because I had to, but I didn’t like it.

My doctor didn’t like my version of adapting either, when she walked into my hospital room and saw me working on my laptop. I was typing dictation of an interview I’d conducted from my hospital bed, so I could write an article for the magazine where I worked. And I was doing it while hooked up to IV’s of steroids and antibiotics and Demerol. Yes, I was adapting to my situation, but not graciously. I was fighting for my old life every step of the way.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Having a bit of spunk is a good thing, but the intention behind the spunkiness matters. I wasn’t fighting to maintain my life because I thought it was in God’s plan for me. I didn’t push myself because it was in my physical or mental best interest. I fought because I was stubborn and wanted my life to be the one I had planned. I was adapting as a compromise between my desires and His. 

And there should be no compromising when it comes to God’s purpose.

So, I’ve changed my thinking… and it changed my heart. Just as much as I would embrace a miracle of healing with open arms, I choose to embrace all that comes into my life the same way. I’ve learned to embrace the pain. Embrace the solitude. Embrace the constantly changing plan of my day as my pain and energy levels fluctuate.

I’ve stopped trying to adapt between what I want and what I have…and I’ve learned instead to want what I’m given. By removing the expectations I placed on my life, I’ve come to appreciate the moments He’s entrusted to me.

It doesn’t make the journey easy.

But it does make it worthwhile.

There are lessons in the pain. There is discovery in the solitude. There are blessings in the opportunities that have come because of my limitations. I’ve learned to love hearing about what’s going on in the world outside of my home as much as I loved living it with my friends.

 I see every moment of my life now, both the difficult and the joyful, as moment to be embraced. Because I know that God is in the middle of all of them. He is in the center of my storms and my blessings. He sees it all with eyes that know and understand and foresee the purpose of my situation. And I want what He wants. 

So I no longer adapt, compromise or adjust. I surrender. I simply trust that whatever is in front of me at any given moment, He is in the center of it. 

And there’s no place else I’d rather be.

by Sara Frankl, Gitzen Girl

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