"I surrender."
It was a raw and life-changing moment, to be sure. The kind of surrender that could make you think that all was finished, and we could move on.
I thought that was it. I was surrendered.
I'm not.
What a revelation, to hand over your life like you never have before, only to come home and realize you have to keep on handing it over. Somewhere along the way, you must have grabbed hold of it again. Snagged a corner, or clutched a few threads and dug your heels. Or maybe there were some parts you never actually let go.
You have to surrender over and over. It's not a one-time event, but a life-style. Once in a lifetime promises don't take you beyond that moment. I have to relinquish my hold everyday, and empty my hands every time I notice they're cherishing weight.
I broke my alabaster box; at least I thought. Maybe I started putting it back together without realizing it. Or maybe breaking your box is a way of life and a path to follow.
I have keep on letting go. I have to give away everyday. Because everyday I receive my own thoughts and a picture of a path I want to walk, and everyday I must turn away in denial and travel the road that's been chosen for me.
What a strange nature we humans have, to conjure up dreams and plans and details for an exchanged life. How strange, the way we jolt in surprise when our following brings us somewhere we would not lead through. Humbling, being taught to carry your alabaster box to every altar, because you'll be asked to break it again and again.
I took the vision He gave me, and multiplied it into a myriad of dreams. The box needs to be broken again.
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