So….there I was. Standing in the back of the church with my
arms raised, I sang those beautiful words.
If I should speak then
let it be
Of the grace that is
greater than all my sin
Of when justice was
served and where mercy wins
Of the kindness of
Jesus that draws me in
Oh to tell you my
story is to tell of Him.
Just earlier that day I had snuck out of my house, with my
shoes in hand to avoid waking up my family.
Everyone had come home and crashed after morning church and lunch. Tonight we were having “Night of Worship” and
I needed to be at the church earlier than the rest of my family. As I slipped my shoes on and walked down my
front stairs, the light rain had saturated my steps. All three carved pumpkins were soggy and
there was a mixture of fallen leaves. At the bottom of the stairs I stopped and
turned around to look. A fall wreath
with a gold sparkly letter B hung on the door.
That’s when it hit me. A
house….my home. Three pumpkins representing my children. Brightly colored
leaves showing the change in the seasons…a season that 5 years ago I didn’t
know I would see.
Today, On November 1, 2015…I am thankful for my story.
My story couldn’t be found in a fairy tale book and it isn’t
for the faint of heart. If you love
tragedy, pain and gut wrenching shame…boy do I have a tale for you. I was an orphan, foster kid, victim, rape
survivor, whore, divorcee, cancer patient…broken. Somehow…He loved me
anyway. Somehow…He sent His Son, His
only Son, so I would not have to stay those things I was. Instead, He caught me in His pool of grace,
washed me with His mercy and gave me a new story. I am adopted, a family member (let me stop
and dance while I weep right there), married…healed. I should be dead…but I am alive. Cancer, abuse, sin those things shaped my
story, but His hand wrote it. Girls like
me don’t have homes….kids…or doors with fall decorations. But, God. When I look back I see Him in every
snapshot of my life. Alone, orphaned and
in foster care He put me in that class where Mrs. Akers would show me that I
needed Jesus in my heart, giving me a new heavenly Father. He guided the heart
of a Christian foster family that would love me and adopt me, giving me a new
name. He took all that abuse and pain…patched me up and gave me a heart to help
others that have walked the same steps I have.
He sent me roadblocks to keep my heart safe and my feet from
falling. He gifted me three…three
children, so I could see myself in little eyes and give and feel love like I
never imagined. He kept me safe in my
pit of sin…even though I was breaking His heart, He still loved me. When the consequences of my sin rolled over
me and I felt like I was drowning, He held me.
When others walked away…He never moved.
When I came back to Him…walking up that pathway to Him, battered,
bruised, smelling like the pig pen I had been in, after losing almost all He
had given me…He ran….ran to greet me.
Oh…and the blessings. They just
keep on coming. My past didn’t stop what His love had started. That is my
story.
So, while my arms were raised in surrender, praising Him for
the story He has written with my life….and continues to write…I am
thankful.
No comments:
Post a Comment