Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Break (02/06/06)
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TITLE: Pieces Made By Man | Previous Challenge Entry
By Teresa Hollums
02/06/06 -
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The wind whipped her brown hair around her face as she rode in her new car. “What a glorious day!” she thought as she rode down the highway. She began to think of all the things that she had accomplished—a loving husband, two sons (although she worried quite a bit about one of them, but he would be alright soon), a small brick home but fine for her, and a good job doing what she loved to do. “Yes, I worked hard for all this.” she thought. I’ve stayed up late and worked hard through college, have given every second either to my home, my family, or my sons. Yes, life is good, and I know I deserve every bit of it.”
I remember being that young woman, and how many times I could only barely squeeze in a church attendance and really never involved enough to show concern and love by cards or calling or actually praying everyday. Everything was mine and I dearly cared about it all.
Now, as I sit with my graying strands of my hair blowing in the same wind, but in a different car, I realize how much time I have wasted in my life in not being in fellowship with the God and the only reason for being—being his child. The clock in the car seemed to echo my thoughts. God does great things and controls everything. “Yes,” I now admit, “My Lord, you mean it when you say: ‘Seek me first and everything else will be added to you.’ I added everything else first and not you, and now I am seeking.”
A momentary flash of a fine son lying in a coffin still swollen from losing his horrible battle with cancer filled her eyes with tears.
“Oh, Lord, how can I cope with this? I have been so far from you for so long and needlessly doing everything my way. I ask with all my being—please, Lord, help me to understand your great plan and accept you as being in control of everything. I cannot make my son live again. I cannot go back in time and give you more time. I cannot go and make right all my past selfish mistakes. Still I know you love me dearly and I know you loved my son dearly. Help me to accept and still love you—despite my very being crying out to protest my own wrongs and the inevitableness of death.”
She dried her tears with her kleenex, and suddenly an imaginary arm reached around her shoulders and hugged her tight.
“My little daughter,” said a kind, still distant, but close whisper,” I am still here. Your son has always been mine and he now is rejoicing in heaven. You can still serve me. Only through your brokenness have you given me the right to fully claim you as my real daughter. Keep searching and praying and asking, and I will be there. Let me guide this time and I’ll lead you straight into heaven into joy with me and all my saints.”
Broken? Pieces made by man will always be broken. Pieces remolded by the potter will be more beautiful and more used.
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Well done :).