Updated: Sep 20
These are my last pics of my summer flowers. The last of my day lilies, and the last of my wisteria which magically bloomed twice this year.
Dear God, sometimes I can't let things go. I want to hold onto Your gifts, like You aren't going to give again. Forgive me for how little I seem to know You. I can be quick to only see what you do, and forget who You are.
You renew. You only take what I have right now to bring better. I just can't seem to keep that in my memory. With each new season, I spend too long grieving the gifts in the last one. I know part of it is because I attach my heart, and to some degree that is good. If it didn't hurt, there would be no evidence of love.
As a writer, I reach and stretch for your words or worry about my words like you aren't going to to give them …again.
As a Mom, I reach and stretch for more moments to love my children and teach them, like you aren't going to give more than enough.
As a woman, I want to reach and stretch for youth. Wrinkles are adding up and I don't like their math. I see time passing, but I remember that you are with me, giving me purpose even to old age and grey hairs.
Show me how looking back can help me focus better forward, and let the pondering of my heart for seasons past produce gratitude and not longing.
All the things that seem just short of enough in this life are meant to get us looking and reaching for eternity. Stretching forward instead of reaching back. With my eyes more fixed on eternity, I can process every ending better. I can see time as adding up instead of slipping away.