I lived

And, it’s my birthday!!!

Yes, I am very, VERY happy to be the ripening age of 55. Once upon a time, 55 was older than dirt. These days, the dirt has been redefined as soil, and I cherish the opportunity to cultivate it for God’s growth in me. If I’m attentive – if I rotate those crops, and feed it good stuff when it’s needy, God’s goodness will continue to take root, thrive, mature, and produce a bumper crop!

I woke up so thankful this morning, and it’s high time for it. My thankfulness kept pace with my mom’s decline in health, more connected than I ever imagined. When she passed, I didn’t even notice my gratitude slipping from existence, too. But, as my eyes adjusted to the light this morning, joy filled my spirit. My thoughts went back, way back. They touched, only long enough to remind, on one particular place from the past.

When I was 13 years old, I put a pistol to my head and pulled the trigger. Really. The darkness swallowed me up, and all hope was gone, so I chose to leave this life behind. I was certain of nothing, but one thing:  I couldn’t live on my own. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t know help was available. All I could do was feel, and it was torturous. The trigger made a noise, although its memory is too age worn to recall. Was it a click? I can’t say. What I CAN remember is the wash of relief I felt, followed by a greater flood of incompetence, when I realized the gun had no ammunition. I couldn’t seem to do anything right.

I lived.

That’s the memory that opened the door for the return of my thankfulness, this morning. Trust me, that’s not the only time God preserved this particular life. Let’s just say, He has gone over and above. He IS over and above! He is Alpha and Omega, after all.

Mom’s passing wasn’t a bullet, but it could have been. I could have watched my hope fade away with the light in her eyes. I could have given up on the God dreams of my heart, not having my mom to make proud with their fruition. I could have found someone else to make proud, someone else on whom to pin my purpose.

Instead, my spirit heard an empty “click” before sunrise this morning, as the birds began their melodies. Instead of a wash of relief, it was a tsunami of gratitude. Instead of flooding feelings of incompetence, it was renewed hope that filled the cracks and crevices of my heart, like liquid gold.

Thank God…

I lived.

Fifty-five is good, very good.

My God, my Lord and Savior, the sweet indwelling Holy Spirit…

Seeking Him and serving Him makes ALL the difference.

I am so, so, so blessed! I give God all the glory for filling my faintness with His strength, and keeping the path before me visible. I give Him glory for the people He has placed in my life, who lend themselves to be His vessels for outpouring love. I give Him glory for loving me into His kingdom, when I didn’t even know what real love was.

Happy Birthday, Me!

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