Like Many Things

It’s funny how as you get older your time is not your time. Your time is yours, except when it isn’t. 

I moved here last December. Since then I have done stuff, and stuff has done me. I’ve worked, dated, even traveled here and there. All in as little as nine months.

Almost a year ago now I took the state exam for my ABO license. Here it is, now, I am going for round two in August. I’m nervous, I don’t fully understand what I don’t understand. I need to get my ass in gear, and I surround myself with people who say the same thing about their own asses.

I wonder if anyone feels like their time is their own. Think about it. You  get older, get engaged, married, have babies and benefits from your job– to take care of those babies. You start to take care of your mom or your dad or both. You attend Bible studies or host them or serve at summer camps, the way I like to do. And all of this involves giving, more and more of yourself, away.

The only one I want to have me is the Father.

I’ve been especially cared for since I moved here. I almost wonder if God, He saw me driving, and he quietly cleared roadblocks out of my way before I could reach them. I never knew they we’re there, because they we’re gone.

I received flowers a few days ago, right after my birthday. Justin is a good man. Anyways, even now there are still lilies popping up at random within this bouquet. They weren’t there when the flowers we’re  delivered, but they are now. A pleasant surprise.

Like many things.

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