oh, how we easily forget.

For a few days, I’ve been wondering what my story is. Not my testimony but why I was written into creation. What does the Writer of creation want from me? How does my one tree make a difference in a forest of over seven billion?

For the last year, I’ve resisted the longing to pack and leave. My logical adult brain makes excuses that I have no money, bills and rent to pay with my nonexistent money, and school to finish. My child-like faith chimes in with visions of an economy where there is enough money, reminders of a Father who loves me unconditionally, and dreams that I am capable of changing the world since the war has been won. Now that there’s only a year left of school, fear grips me, and the realization hits: what is my purpose? What am I doing after grad school?

So I began my search of potential abroad work with orphans. But I was only looking into it as a filler. Maybe this is God gently (if you can call heartbreak gentle) telling me that this is enough. Maybe it’s Him pulling me back, saying, “Child, have you forgotten my promise to you? Have you forgotten who I am? My plans are far better than anything you can plan. I know your heart and your greatest desires. Do you really doubt that I do not have the best story just for you? You don’t need anyone else; you need Me.”

Lord, forgive me because I have forgotten.

Advertisements