I want to write my own story.
I know, I know. I shouldn’t want to. His ways are better, higher. But I see only the now and I want to write it my way.
I would have written in a baby that first year after our wedding. I would have carved in financial ease and I would have definitely given us neighbors that don’t harbor ill feelings toward us. I would have kept some things the same– like my amazing husband and our little house and the flat land that surrounds our farm. But the changes would have been drastic, I can assure you.
And if I could start writing today- I would inscribe that baby on the next page and I would definitely raise the price of milk and maybe even take time to change whatever is in our soil that keeps the electric fence from working (and therefore allowing the cattle to escape).
O God, to be honest, I want to write my story in a way that pleases me.
With much less pain and sorrow, more hope and victory.
Those were the words that I pressed onto my journal page a few months ago. They turned into a song that I have been singing, and it is the chorus that has been holding me tight. I’ll share it with you today because my hope is that you will hear the truth and it will hold you tight as well.
It is true. Today, I want to write my own story– but I’ll surrender that want. I’ll bow low and offer it up again because the one thing that will always be true, every day for all eternity, is that He is more than enough.