Grab that story.
Yes that one.
The one that’s yours.
It’s got your name written all over it. Claim it. Cuddle it. Embrace it. Savor it.
It is yours after all. With all its pieces and parts. What is your story, morning glory? What are your beginnings, happy endings, messy middles. Your pauses to celebrate, your pauses to regenerate, and re-calibrate. To learn and gleen.
Did you dog-ear a page, here and there. And did you highlight and re-read. Did you you thank the One who gave you all. Did you rest on the pages and say this here and that there are places of Grace. Places of Mercy. Places of prayer, answered.
Are you seeing it all, the nuances and layers of love. The places in between blended in between the first and second acts, where He loves and loves some more. And sends His Savior, Son to take all the pain.
You know those parts of that story of yours. The painful parts that sting and hurt. Where the salty streams run down the cheek and bump-over the face craters, face mountains and valleys, then glide down the silhouette side, to round the chin corner. Like a stream finding its way, taking a slow winding path down pebbled speed bumps of face. Bone, flesh, and pore drowned in salted streams.
A winged chapter glides by, you might miss it. A part and a piece fly by, grab hold, all kite-tailed happy, catch it and glide. Ride it and sail.
Once upon a time parts are just once, that’s singular, not plural, once to behold times. Just once to partake times, simply once in a blue moon. Once in that life-time. Not twice upon a time. Not there will be re-runs and do-overs and repeat performance times, once upon a time are once for you times.
Live your story well.
Run that story well.
Let His Son play a major role, a leading part. He is the star in your performance. His is the best story ever lived. He will walk it out and be in every chapter and verse. What Glory and Honor do we give the One who gave us all.
He the Author and Designer of these our lives, this our life, any and all that we have. Release it back to Him.
I give Him my story and thank Him for each part.
Taken off the wing of the One who sent it soaring in.
And sent back to to Him.
On wings to soar up and out, returning to Him, the Creator of All and any.
All and any that I ever claim as mine.
What a story, morning glory. The your story, my story, the our stories.
My once upon a time is just once upon a time and I celebrate all the times of this Life, this story is mine.
May this Sabbath be filled with thanking, and grabbing story, reigning it in and recommitting it all to Him.
Every good and perfect gift is from above—James 1:17
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elizabeth w. marshall 