My future is not mine.

Oh, what bittersweet surrender it is – to see a future and finally decide it’s not mine to hold. At least not yet. That if I keep my dreams tight in my fists they wouldn’t grow. My plans are seeds but my hands are not soil. I’m not violently wiggling out of the pre-assigned future for me, anymore. I am accepting it with joy. With gratefulness. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for commitment. So for commitment, I’ll stay. Honor my end of the bargain. Clip my wings for a while because there is a time for everything – for staying put and for flight. For both morning and night. I find myself crying – out of newness and grief and the raw acceptance of what’s in front of me.

Lord, You know my heart. You brought me here. You’ll be with me here. I wouldn’t trade this for anything else; You promised your presence.

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