Because it is a cold day again, and I am again at the end of me.
Snow mounds pile waist high and the hairs freeze in my nose. My cheeks tight with razor winds, and still my insides puddle, melted down and useless.
I’ve come to a often visited place – the end of me. And though I am a frequent visitor, I foolishly forget this rugged terrain.
Responsibilities pile mile high and I freeze in my tracks…melted down and useless. Weather beaten sign states, “Welcome to The End of Yourself.” Cried out, tired and weary worn I shuffle past the sign and like the famous prodigal wondering why I ever left, I lay down to rest in leftover angel’s wings made in powdery snow.
Because the end of me is the beginning of Him – when I let Him Be.
I’ve been gently reminded that the responsibilities never came because of my greatness, but because of His. So they are His, they belong to…
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