The Mud in My Hands

I wrote this in July of last year. After I hit publish… I had to make myself not go back and trash it. O to be vulnerable!… Someone very dear told me once, “Satan cannot take you out of Jesus’ hand, so he will try to take your seed”. Well, not in July and not today, not on my blog and not in my home…not taking my seed today. Trusting Him, Diana

Better Than Fairy Dust

I had two handfuls of mud to sling behind my back.

I wasn’t planning on doing any slinging, but I might need to, so I held on.

In front, I smiled and remembered. Behind, I held the mud remembering still.

I remembered the lies. The religion. The twists and turns that seemed unbelievable. The way “up front” was not part of that playing field. The way I felt so rejected, confused. The way I had watched my husband counsel and grieve in his own valley. I remembered the loneliness- the lack of the body. The realization that if I pretended and worked in the nursery and smiled, I could be “in”, but if I was me- getting freed by my King and giving back, then there were problems and not ones that wanted solutions, just problems to get rid of, to hide, to sweep under rugs.

Image, image, image ruled…

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