I remember sitting in a pew at Caney Baptist listening to my
Grandfather sing “Blessed Assurance.”
That was the title of the hymn, but all I heard was “This is my story,
this is my song. Praising my Savior all
the day long.” As a small child, the
fact that we all have a story did not mean anything to me. A story was a good book or a lie, like when I
took a pack of gum from Winn’s Department store and insisted I did not. Now, that was a story!
At the wonderful age of forty, I pride myself on knowing that
a story is much more than just a bedtime narrative or a teensy, tiny fib. A
story is a person’s life. It is the hard
fought battles and the sweet victories.
A story comes from the days spent high on the mountaintop and the days
spent in the deepest, darkest valleys begging for a way out. However, the bulk of a person’s story is being
written on regular days when life seems to be nothing more than a routine from
the time we hit the alarm clock until the time our head hits the pillow at
night. The routine may include diapers and bottles, sack lunches and report
cards, or days at the office or nursing home.
I get the privilege, although sometimes the tension in my
neck would call it a different name, to witness eight stories unfolding right
here under my own roof. There are six people
in my family, but I included the dogs just for fun. I would not dare write
about my husband or children yet, so let me start with our puppy, Bubs. He is a
Jack Russell and fits the description for his breed. He is athletic, curious, determined, lovable,
and loyal. His life story can also
include that he is an active member of the toilet paper roll destruction team
and an avid rabbit hunter. Last night
when I had all of the Monicos in bed, I carried Bubs out. He disappeared into
the woods so quickly that he looked like a white flash running across the
pasture. My handy spotlight shed some
light on the situation when I saw the bunny he was trailing after. If Bubs could type and relay his story to you,
he would tell you that the chase was fun, a real high, he just couldn’t resist
and that it wore him out!
My story can be like that too at times when I chase after
things that I don’t need, doubt that the Lord has a specific purpose for my
life, compare my life to others, or allow my self to be too busy. Busy means I can’t focus on the things right
here that I love the most. I hold on
tight to a scripture from John 15:5 because my story is far from perfect, but I
want it to amount to something. Jesus spoke to his disciples and said “I am the
vine: you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear
much fruit; apart from me, you can do nothing.”
Do you want your story to be a whole bunch of nothing? I
doubt it. The key is to remain in Jesus
and know that no matter what your present circumstances look like, He will
remain with you. With that simple truth
in mind, what will your story read at the end of this week?
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