In a second…

I would leave forever. This is how I know I can’t. I am so eager to go anywhere, I know I need to stay and work where I’m at, finding my peace and satisfaction in doing God’s Will in His time. I’m not talking about camp, I’m talking about college. I am close to burnt out but I can’t let go yet.

But right now, in this moment, there are people I never want to see again, and I need to get better before I can see them again. I will though. God says to love selflessly with others’ best interests at heart. So I will. In this much I am glad and content.

The days pass by in sunshine and storm, and I would take a tornado watch over a week at school any day. I don’t know what this means, but I’m beginning to think I need a change. Or rather, this reinforces that I feel I need a change. As my summer skin darkens, my hair lightens, and smile brightens, I will be made more in God’s image from the inside out. I will walk. I will listen and be led, I’ll run laps and go to bed.

But I can’t sleep much these days. This is how I know something is stirring in my mind, tugging at my soul. I don’t expect my writing to make any sense to anyone. As always, I’m all right with that and I’m just trying to get some thoughts out.

This place is a spiritual nursery. We feed them on miracle grow, foster them in hothouses, but it’s only for a week. I see the parable of the seeds unfold. I see it written on them, but only faint traces. To me, it’s nearly invisible ink, but to God, it is ordained. All my days were before one of them came to be (think Psalm 139). I pray God’s blessing, holding small hands and knowing I am powerless, yet hoping big hopes for little hearts. We send them out in neat little plant boxes on Saturdays, with ribbons and fertilizer… and I pray they are planted in gardens tended with care. It breaks my heart to see them shriveled and dying, but often I never get to know. I was a little weed grown wild, yet pruned and tamed. I pray for fruit by grace.

I am given so much, I want to give so much. Heart-breaking love heals. Father, take care of me, a skinny weed who wants to be a fruit tree. Let your seeds of truth grow fruit in my life, may my branches strain for You in all seasons.

Love,
Rachel

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