" You were born an original, don't die a copy."John Mason
The dregs of winter cling to the curbs and are mounded up, dirty and grey on my north facing front lawn.
I watched the dawn come this morning, through slitted, heavy, sandy eyes...
my wounded body shifting restlessly on my couch.
I counted the minutes like drips from a leaky faucet...slow to build...reluctantly moving on.
I wrestled through the darkest night of the soul I have had in a long time.
Failures and faults, limitations and choices slammed into me from all sides.
The sameness of my days this year, thus far, battered me with insignificance.
What's left after the dark scourges?
After the long night wrings every last drop of strength from even the marrow of your bones?
Who am I?
Underneath the skin of my days?
As dawn breached the dark and night gave way I fell into a short slumber, waking three hours later with the realization that the question asked is mis-spelled....
The question is not who am I?
It should be :
Whose am I?
I am an original.
I was purposed...
"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be."
I read about the precious gift of my intentioned life and I swell with thanksgiving.
Pregnant with purpose.
The weeping of the night turns to joyous laughter...
Weary limbs stretch high..and wide in praise.
Courts are entered.
Holy is the Lord God Almighty!
I turn the pages of "one thousand gifts" and startling truth sears through...
Ann Voskamp echoes the cry of my heart..
...forged in the fires of His love...
tempered by the knowledge of His goodness...
"...life change comes when we receive life with thanks and ask for nothing to change."
It is well with my soul.
That soul that makes it's boast in God alone.
The One whose strength is made perfect in weakness.
This is His day..
I will rejoice.
He is the Original.
I am his.
..and so are you....
An original work of his hands.
Never to be repeated.
Thanks be to God...
Who does ALL things well.