A Colorful Life!

I was washing dishes when I suddenly looked at my wrist as though I'd never seen it before. On it was this delicate silver bracelet given to me by my husband last Christmas. "When did I start wearing 'dainty'?" I thought.

Last year Scott and I renovated our kitchen. For years I had stressed over this project. The kitchen needed renovating, but I vowed to hold out until the last cabinet plummeted to the floor! Strangely though, in April I began planning. I researched styles and cabinetry; I began thinking about colors. And trust me, there is no shortage of color in this kitchen! But this sudden affinity for color didn't stop with the kitchen. For years my wardrobe made Johnny Cash look flashy. I now own an orange t-shirt and a bright blue skirt. I like them and I wear them! (Not together.)

And then there's the compulsiveness. Or the current lack thereof. I hate to admit this (I really do) but I was so crazy about keeping my home house neat that, even when my children were small, they were not free to play with their toys the way children do -- scattering blocks about and using books for anything other than their predetermined purpose. I feared a toy breaking, or one plastic chicken being lost from a farm set. Toys were neatly returned to the toy box, stacked and assembled like a perverse game of Tetris. Now I purposely buy mismatched dishes, and intentionally set picture frames askew on my desk. So, what is going on?

Years ago I was injured. I chose for the better part of my life to walk in that injury. To prevent further sexual abuse -- I thought -- I had to be less like a girl. To prevent further rejection from those who said they loved me -- I thought --  I had to be hard and uncaring, to do unto others before they could do unto me. To prevent further abandonment -- I thought -- I had to be strong and fiercely independent. To gain control of relationships which, in the past, were in constant upheaval and disorder -- I thought -- I had to control everything else around me. I thought wrong.

The truth is, we all have suffered damage at the hands of others. Some, pretty substantial. But I made the choice to allow that damage to define who I was. Living a life that reacts to the offenses of others or a life determined by the events that occur in this world is a life anchored in the temporal. It is a life guarded by my own plan and power, a life walled off from others and kept behind closed doors, a life of rules and restrictions, and lived in the shadow of past pain.

My life is much different today because of my purpose for living. Jesus is my focal point -- not healing, or stability, or safety, or even forgiveness. They are all good things and worthy of our longing, but they are byproducts of seeking after a Savior, One who can redeem a colorless, legalistic, abrasive life. 

"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." -- Matthew 6:33