Different Crayons in the Box of Life

It's not that I don't have anything to write, it's that what I write may not have any bearing on your life at the moment. Relevance seems to be the thing these days.
I've been a time killer. I have been overlooked and thought of as a good friend. I have fallen in love by myself. I have misunderstood things and consequently completely missed good things. I have held babies and loved them and prayed for my own. I can close my eyes and see a meadow full of bright yellow wild flowers reaching to a deep blue sky. I've walked barefooted on gravel, mowed grass, trimmed bushes, pruned the peach tree behind our house and frog gigged in the proverbial creek beside my Southern home-britches legs rolled to my knees, hair in a ponytail, feet bare and sinking into mud. But I don't drink or eat after people. I don't like getting sticky. My crayons always had to be sharpened (NOT the paper being ripped off of them), and placed in the box with ROYGBIV in mind. I like to jog, I love salad and fruit could be dessert for me. But pasta is my downfall. I have parents who tell me they love me just because I'm theirs and a grandmother who tells me when I need to "get that fat off me."

If life was about logic, or not contradicting, my life wouldn't fit into those bounds. My life is one big paradox. I love too much. My heart is too big. As a result, I have trouble seeing things the way they should be. I see things the way I wish they were. I get attached quickly and quickly end visits with "I love you." I mean it. But I say it too quickly. I welcome everyone into my world only to be rocked at the core when they leave suddenly or choose to go. I don't really know what point I'm trying to make here except that life is messy. I'm learning that's okay because if it wasn't, I wouldn't need Jesus. I wouldn't depend on Him so deeply. Every situation is a lesson. Every lesson brings me closer to being the woman He saw when He first thought of me. For every heartache, misunderstanding, unrequited love...for every summer spent fishing and frog giggin' and playing in the dirt-I have become me. I'm learning she's not too much to handle, not too strong to understand. She's the little girl I used to be and the woman I have turned into and Jesus has held my hand the whole way and He hasn't let it drop yet. He won't. He's the constant in this transitory life.

"Listen to me, O house of Jacob,
all you who remain of the house of Israel,
you whom I have upheld since you were conceived,
and have carried since your birth.

Even to your old age and gray hairs
I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you;
I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Isaiah 46:3-4