How can I even give a tiny hint of a complaint about my weight, my job (or lack of) my mate, my children, my sleep (or lack of) when I stop for even a moment’s reflection, TRUE reflection of what my Creator is, who He is, what He’s done. And how sad His picture of me as a loving child must be.
He’s created me, filled me with distinctive tastes, talents, longings, purpose; guided each step of my life, many steps more than He planned, probably, because of my many wayward and wilfull steps in the opposite direction.
He listens to my confessions, my deeply felt apologies and concrete determination to step forward only to watch me slip away within minutes of my decision. How low. How despicable. I can no more vow to do right than I can hold my breath for an hour. Times like these serve to reinforce my total understanding that I don’t live and breathe each day; His Grace, His Totally Beautiful and Unending Grace lives and breathes each day. I am just the blossom that flourishes on the vine of His Glorious Love and Grace.