Sometimes it is dramatic. In my family we call them "million-dollar testimonies". The recovered alcoholic who stopped medicating and found healing in the form of a Person. The delivered occultist who learned the Name that would scatter the creatures of her waking nightmares. The transformed Islamic terrorist visited by a vision of a risen Savior.
The kind of stories ordinary Jack and Jill Christian wish we could tell of ourselves...only not really. Because who wants to go through those ordeals? But the transformative power of grace is so evident in them, so spectacular and miraculous and epic in their scope, that it can make a bred-and-born churchgoer feel somehow inadequate. Ironic.
My story has no special effects or pyrotechnics. I am still learning to find the grace in the seeming insignificant details of my life. But one thing I do know.
He is the healer of broken dreams, disappointment, and heartache. The restorer of hope. And he often refuses me what I want, in order to give me what I need.
I wanted to fall in love with a musician. He gave me an artist.
I wanted to be an animator. He gave me patience, perseverance, and finally, an awakening.
I wanted a daughter. He gave me sons.
Fourteen months ago, I wanted never to endure another pregnancy. Three months ago, He gave me peace.
We're due in March.
Congratulations to your whole family.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on the advent of a whole new normal! I hope it goes better than you could ever have imagined :)
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