Quarter Century Thoughts. Not necessarily a quarter century crisis.
(Although 2020 could definitely allow for one.)
As I wrote in my Decades Challenge post back in January, “If my 14-year-old self could see me now I don’t know if she would be mortified or proud.” I am definitely not who I thought I would be, just like I am definitely not where I thought I would be. Disappointed? Yes and no. I find myself mourning at times for what was lost, and I am learning that those emotions are needed and valid. It’s a part of healing and growing. So many dreams have been left behind, but so many amazing adventures have made up the difference in beautifully overwhelming ways. I think that’s part of following God though. We plan our action, but He directs our steps (Proverbs 16:9). His direction has always proven better than my plans. Always.
I am not who I thought I would be, but I am exactly who God needs me to be. I am not where I thought I would be, but I am exactly where God needs me to be.
Wild right?!
Every day I am learning to embrace this concept more. Not my will, but His. Not my timing, but His. Not my strength, but His. Not my control, but His.
For the most part, I have no idea what exactly God wants from me and my life, but I live with the faith that even when I have no idea what is going on God does. This leads me to hope.
So, I will enter my 25th year waiting. Knowing that waiting is the preparation. Preparation being the steadfast faith that yields to hope. Hope and knowledge that the Lord’s promises over my life will prevail.
25 years from now I may have a different story to tell. Different thoughts to share, but at least for now my goal will be to embrace. Embrace God’s plans for my life with open arms, and to be surprised and delighted to find out where they take me.
For now, I leave you with a poem I wrote. I believe it is a testimony in its own right. A testimony of grace, progress and strength. Here’s to 25.
My Roots Run Deep
My roots run deep
Beware I do not blow away so easily
Like a rose, thorns out, I spring up from the ground
When the pretty fades the thorns remain
Not to be judged
For I survive the harshest winters
My roots run that deep
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