Some days I wake up and feel slammed with one web of emotion stacked upon another. I trudge forward knowing that there is a day ahead with boys to polish and feed; mind, body and spirit.
i can't find my spirit.
That day, just this week, I had to stop and think on what was so troubling. About the loss and grief I'm feeling over losing my grandpa slowly, his life is ebbing.
As major emotions do, the ground beneath me shifts in my grief and I see another loss.
Lost years. Years, I have been listening to this voice that says that I'm not enough. I can't do enough. I can't be enough. I will always be lacking.
And in a strange way I know this is true. True enough. In my friends' and family's eyes I will always come up lacking. But I remember, my name is Redeemed. I was a lost cause, broken soul of a girl. But God saw me. He remembered how His hands knit me together (Jeremiah). He delighted in me (Zephaniah) and so he did what it took and used His own life to buy me, to purchase my soul. Ransomed.
So sitting on the bed, looking at the leaves against the sky He whispers to remind me that it's not true. "You are doing what I have called you to do." ...and that I am worthy, I am paid for.
My value is not in what I do. I was ransomed. My value is in the eyes of Abba. My creator.
For years God has been peeling away at this belief of mine, that I am not enough.
So I pick up this thought for the moment, tuck it in my pocket to go; ransomed. Enough, I am enough for Him. I head down the stairs to face my day and boys, sticks, math and all.
But I think of this woman I read of, Ann, who prays in and out of the day. I sneak up to my room at 11 and clear a spot on the floor to pray. I read, I look at those leaves against the sky and thank God for all those things and remember that I am ransomed.
I can do a few more hours. He is my manna. And so near. He is Abba, I am ransomed.
