Nothing is wasted, she said.
I just looked at her like she was crazy since it seemed so disjointed, this life of mine.
Classes and books and studying…for what? I think sometimes. The yoga and the workshops and the working out. The running and the striving and the working to be all things.
I see you, He assures me.
The Bibles, so many and the studies I can’t keep straight, my fingers clumsily looking at the table of contents to see how to get to where all the others already are. Lost again but seeking. Searching. No map for me, the path is hidden, only the next step appears miraculously before the abyss. I think I’m the first until I notice the muddy indentation from the soles (souls?) that preceded me.
Fragments of grace. Pieces of Holy. I cling tightly to hope.
He shows me the next step.
I say yes. Not knowing why but trusting that the invitation has been offered by the One who sees the big picture.
All of the writers and thinkers and philosophers and musicians…the hours spent talking about ideas and dreams…imagining. College days filled with beer and breadsticks and friends who left home for the first time. All the wondering and wandering.
The people…the anticipatory hello and the sometimes hasty good bye. Other times the final touch lingering, painful and difficult to forget. Scars…battle wounds for being real I guess.
Brennan Manning says, “In love’s service only wounded soldiers can serve.”
The wounds are not wasted.
Fear and panic born from destiny’s appointment with a gunman. A desperate soul in need passing his fear onto me rendering me useless. Paralyzed. Afraid.
Doctors and prayers and the Great Healer leading me to breath.
Breath leading me to life again.
Fear not, He tells me.
Marriage and babies and toddlers and teens all needing their own library to tell their story.
And the dance goes on.
My doubt…His reassurance.
My fear…His freedom.
My sickness…His healing.
My following…His leading.
My trust…His abundance.
Nothing is wasted.
©2015 Sue Bidstrup, Great Big Yes™, All Rights Reserved