Coming Alive

I’m experiencing a new feeling lately, of actually doing the things I am supposed to do each day.  Am I having perfect days?  Not hardly.  I’m just as imperfect as I’ve always been, so what’s different?

I’m not escaping.  Escaping into food, escaping into TV, escaping into a safe place in my mind.  I’m showing up and doing the things I need to do, like disciplining my food intake, planning and carrying out projects (reasonable: those things I pray for guidance and instruction on in the morning), going to see my older neighbor who doesn’t get out much.  I guess it could be called discipline, but it’s even more of a spiritual thing.

Being obedient.  Trusting God enough to take a risk in this “living” thing.  Not having a mental barrier to shield myself from hurts, old memories, and a rebellious spirit that refuses to totally participate in life.  (“If I didn’t get what I wanted, I refuse to play anymore.”)  Wow, but that makes me uncomfortable…

I have used food to separate me from dealing with emotions and to medicate the hurts of unrealized dreams.  On the surface I look like a pretty together person who takes care of business.  On the inside there is huge potential to do special things, to walk closely with the Lord, to leave warm memories for the grandchildren, but most of all, to be the person I am in His eyes.  I am powerless to do it by myself.

I understand the words to that old hymnal, “One day at a time, dear Lord.”  That is all I can do.  Live to my fullest in the day before me.  To live in tomorrow also would be to trust in myself, not in God to see me through.  Today, I can make it.