Maybe my story is gonna be more like Ruth—sorrow, hard work, barley and Boaz.
Maybe my story is gonna be more like Esther—a season of service, preparation, fasting and then feasting.
Maybe my story is gonna be more like Peter—some dipping below the surface of the stormy sea, some denial and some serious forgiveness.
Maybe I’m a little bit like all of them, a combination of chaos! Well, not chaos … just a little bit of crazy.
I wonder if I should stop trying to figure out whose life my life is like and just live the life God has given me to live.
My life.
Exhausting, but blessed.
I used to keep a list of thing I considered blessings. Things like the colors of fall, playing the piano, the sound of tires driving on gravel, waves crashing on the beach, a breeze blowing the curtains, hot cocoa in coffee, a hug from one of my children, a text from a friend … there were (and are) so many things in any given day that were a blessing. I’ve lost sight of that. I’ve forgotten to count my blessings.
Again.
How often am I going to forget to count blessings?
