No One Else Can Do It

“…The more I thought about it, the hotter I got, igniting a fire of words:  Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.  Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is.  You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.  My entire lifetime is just a moment to you;  at best, each of us is but a breath.”  ~Psalm 39:1-5~

It’s already two weeks into this new year but for me, fifty-five years have passed, never to return.  As the psalmist declares, ‘Remind me that my days are numbered–how fleeting my life is’.  I cannot help but face the fact that I am ‘gracefully’ aging and perhaps the time I have left is not going to be as long as it took me to get here.  Having said that, it’s so very important to write down the journey, the ‘fire of words’ that run through my head on a daily basis but rarely get put down to recount and rejoice in.

Your life, like mine, is a story with twists, turns and yes, an ending. ‘The End’, when there will no longer be any words recorded.  Only the memories we left behind.

No one else can write my story or yours. Whether you write it, draw it, sing it.  However you choose, it’s distinctly you and that is as a light show into eternity, declaring who He made you to be.

Our story, our memories are our gifts to those who come after us and unless we record it, it will just burn within us and then be gone.

So, to that end, I am endeavoring to record the moments, the ‘aha’s’ that are shaping who I am becoming as well as the times when I am holding on to Jesus for dear life.  Because, as we all know, those experiences happen and He is faithful to hold us.

He promised.

He keeps his promises.

Otherwise, He wouldn’t be God.

What is your story and will you join me in writing it down, no matter how painful, challenging or time-consuming you think it might be?  It’s worth writing for your kids to have as well as for you; when you need to be reminded of how God provided, how you made it through and how you’ve grown more beautiful.

…and sometimes, it’s easy for me to just post a picture, thinking that THAT is telling a story.  But what is the back story to those photos?  I realize I’m not going to ‘hide’ behind a picture anymore.

Like the following shot.

It’s my desk; full of papers, my car keys and the gorgeous Christmas vintage cookie jar my sweet neighbor, Mrs. Perez, gave me, in the background.  The notebook is just sitting there, waiting for me to write down my thoughts.  But the focus is on my keys because they stand out.  I don’t even go out often but there they were, right in the middle of everything, so I grabbed my camera and snapped away.

The cookie jar became a conversation piece when we hosted our first couple between Christmas and New Year’s.  They’d never seen a cookie jar.  I can’t imagine what that would be like and the delight they experienced as they pulled out a cookie (gifts from my neighbor’s across the street), made the experience even more special.

Our lives touch so many lives.

Lately, I stay home because I want the house ready for any guests that come.

So I clean…a lot.  And I pray and sing and dance as I work.

But, I am convinced that the time I spend preparing both with manual labor and intercession for our future guests is time well invested.

It is a very short life.  One not to be taken for granted, even if it’s wiping down baseboards (or a baby bottom), washing toilets or standing in the doorway of a guest room declaring God’s best for someone I’ve not yet met.

When I hold out my hand and examine the width of it, I am sobered.

My days are numbered and they are being recorded to declare who God is in me.

Until tomorrow…

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