There's a moment when you realize that you are no longer whom you thought you were anymore.
Several weeks ago, I sat in the church offices and realized that I was sitting in the place of my old office. And again the thought struck me. What has happened? Who am I now?
I looked back over the last few years - belittled, confession and argument to accusations of which I have no understanding. I cowered emotionally to not rock the boat and in an attempt to protect myself and those I love.
I wonder if I would do this again.
I, at times, feel like an old piece of furniture that has been placed in a thrift shop. If perhaps some one were to come along and purchase me, he would see my value and restore me.
There would be a gentle washing of the wounds. I am not the labels that I have been called.
Then my restorer sands away the old layers - those roles that no longer fit. I'm not defined by marriage or lack of marriage. I am not defined by my career or lack of career. I am not defined by who I know or the number of meetings at which I've spoken or that I've attended.
Then my restorer applies new layers. The first coat is that which is true of all of us. I'm made in the image of God. He never leaves us and we are precious in His sight.
The next is though my favorite part which is the redesign of my details that make me unique.
Everything has been stripped away and yet I can still sit with God. Yet I still have a purpose and calling and a relationship that will not fail.