A Coffee and Some Looking Back
My mother has told me in my earliest of days I was a fighter.(I was born three months early and spent a lot of those three months I should have been in my mother’s womb in the hospital.)
I wonder sometimes where that fighter went. (Somehow she got lost in the desire to fit in, to simultaneously/impossibly stand out and blend in.)
There are times I catch glimpses of her. (Too often simply being foolishly stubborn.)
The question is how to change? (How to change deeply engraved values that are, well, more than a bit not good?)
(I serve a God who insists He’s willing to meet me where I currently am.) (Will I meet Him there/here?) The fighter, the Hope Giver say yes, yes – do it! Get up (again). Keep going. He’s got your back.