Five Minute Friday: So it’s that time of the week where I join other women and The Gypsy Mama in writing my heart, unedited, unscripted. Just write for 5 minutes.
He asks me to open my hands. To keep them that way. To not try to hold on again, grasping at what I love. He requires this. That this is how I live. Open-handed.
I wish that I could say I want to. But sometimes I don’t. I ask for Him to teach me, to guide me to show me, and He has. But He needs the creases of my hands to face upward. Empty.
Because when I ask for patience, we all know that’s not what He gives. Opportunity. That’s what this God is all about.
But the labor can take years, and there is no epidural sometimes.
To trust Him with our growing pains? Isn’t that what He desires? That resolution doesn’t need to come, and the peace that passes understanding should do just that. I wish I could welcome peace without the need to understand.
So I try to take the hands from my pockets, and I try to pry each finger from the fist.
But it always goes back.
I say I trust Him. But do I? Do I give Him all of me? Every time?
Oh how I want to…