A Story of Surprises

This year has surprised me.

Some years whizz by.  When you look back you can't remember anything other than school runs, busy workdays, even busier weekends, grumpy children, smiling children and toilets that need cleaning again the second after you just finished cleaning them.

Other years seem to be pivotal.  You get married.  You have a baby.  You graduate.  You move house.  Those years are like the foundational stones in the story of your life.

But, for me, this year has been surprising.

My prayer for this year has been this:

Be the author of my story. 

Perhaps because I am a writer, this feels more poignant to me.  I know that when I write a story, I can create characters exactly the way I want them to be.  I can send them wherever I choose.  I can give them obstacles to overcome.  I hold the pen and I breath life into them.

And letting go of the penmanship of my life has brought changes and events that have, quite honestly, sometimes shocked me.

There have been fast-paced times, full of action and adventure which have taken my breath away. 

There have been slower, careful times which have brought pause, rest and nourishment.

There have been twists and turns which have caused me to lean deeper into the only One who is steady and hold on tight. 

There have been weeks and months of heavy, thick and confusing fog where I couldn't see the next step and didn't know how we would reach any kind of goal. The Author didn't have writers block but sometimes it felt that way and so I had to lean in harder, trust more and keep giving back the pen instead of snatching back into my little hands.

And there have been times when my heart has been so wrecked, so sore and so pained by the events I have witnessed around me that all I could do was lie flat on my face and sob whilst the heart of the Author has been breathed into mine and I have felt His compassion, His anger at injustice and His love.

And now this year is coming to a close, I can see how it all fits together.  All year, it has felt like separate chapters, not merging and sometimes even from a completely different story.  But now, looking backwards and forwards into the next year, I am surprised at the intricate weaving of a story which never started with me, and won't finish with me.

Because it's not my story.  It's His, and I am overwhelmingly grateful to be a part of it.