And that was the thing. I knew that all the pieces I once thought I had sorted were suddenly unraveling into a new sort of something. While the others surrounding me were moving in one direction, I stood there frozen still, trying to make my way to following them. But a powerful Something wouldn't allow it. To me It was urging a contrasting message, "Stay. Don't go. This is where you belong. In this here + now. Not in that there + then. This is where you unpack. Press the pause button + marvel at the intimate transformation that stopping can cultivate in you. Surrender what you thought would be for what was always ultimately meant for you." 

Every inkling I owned was slowly slipping through my fingers. One by one, He pulled back my tight-bloodied knuckles from the ideals I had + for a split second there I was, empty handed. 
I looked at my metaphorical hands + sensed the hollowness of it all. What I thought I had He took away + allowed me the mercy of experiencing emptiness.
Yes. It's mercy pouring over my life to feel so utterly helpless + empty. It's His mercy that takes away. 
But His grace---His grace doesn't leave you where mercy found you. His grace gives. His grace redeems. And the things you once held to tightly become the side notes to the main points of your existence. They become supporting roles to your leading debut. They become the gifts freely given instead of the objects selfishly coveted.

Alexa JoyComment