You're at a fork in the road, and you don't have a map. You're calling your friends, your family, anyone who will answer asking for directions, but no one seems to know where you are. They do the best they can, offering you a piece of their wisdom from the vague explanation you give of where you are. Over and over again, call after call, your location seems to get more and more blurry. Suddenly, you don't recognize where you are or how you got there. Everyone is trying to help but you're running out of road and you still don't know where to go. Now you've stopped, you've pulled over and you're looking down each option. Road one looks familiar, the scenery feels like home. You've more than been there, you've grown up there and know exactly what to order at the small diner on the side of the road. The memories there have built you. However, the physical pavement seems to be cracking. It's been ridden on so many times for so long that you notice the little things you hadn't before. What used to be one solid stretch has now been divided into smaller pieces. When you drive on it, you jump up and down as you ride over potholes and indents. The yellow line has been interrupted in places. As you grew up on this stretch of land, the flaws weren't noticeable, but now it's hard to overlook the damage that it's slowly been doing to your car, and remember how much you really do love that part of town. Because you do, you do love it, but do you love it more than the cracks cost you?
Road two is freshly paved. The folks there are kind and compassionate. They've taught you the ropes and made you feel like you belong, even if you know you don't. When you tell your family at home about it, your face glows and you can't think of any reason to return to the run down street you call home. It's there that you've noticed what is wrong with the first road, in the first place. Instead of being one of the locals, you're almost like a visitor. You get to experience how the other side lives and that's when you realize that you really are at a fork in the road. However, you haven't told your friends on the phone that it still feels foreign compared to the run down road. Despite how much you love it here, this isn't home. You aren't a local and you can't pretend that you are or that you will be. The clean road and pretty people make you feel special, but you can't be the same person there that you can be at home. So do you return to your roots or is it time for something new? Some say pick road one, others beg you to pick road two, but theres one person you can't seem to hear. The One who has been driving your car the whole time. After each call you're shoulders slouch and your head seems to fall even further. You keep telling Him how hard this decision is. That if you pick the wrong one, everything could fall apart. You beg Him to tell you where to go, what to do. He just seems to sit there with you smiling. You asked Him to pull over so you could call more people and ponder more deeply. Tears are falling down your face, splashing on your lap. You start to scream at Him, "Why aren't you answering me? Why won't you just tell me where to go? Where are you?" You're running out of courage and now it's time to decide. You're staring at Him, waiting for Him to say something. He looks over at you, his eyes soft. He tilts his head to the side and places His hand on your cheek and the corners of His mouth seem to turn up at the ends. He wipes the tears from your face and whispers, "My love, don't you trust Me? If you let me, I will drive you where you are supposed to go. Just be still and listen to Me. I am holding you up and I will not let you fall, I promise. Just trust Me, okay? Trust Me."
1 Comment
Cindy
12/21/2017 09:13:04 am
Libby, this is really good. Your heart for God and your ability to express this journey of faith is powerful! Keep writing girl- and keep trusting! He has you and the place you are headed is far better than you could ask or imagine!
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"Choose everyday to forgive yourself. You are human, flawed, but most of all worthy of love."
alison malee L i b b y G r a c eAs you read what I've written in journal I want it to feel like we're talking over coffee. I encourage you to send me a note, so we can continue the conversation.
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