Change my heart.
I sat down on the cold hardwood floor, legs crossed, head down, and I pleaded fiercely with my Maker.
Please, change my heart. Change my life.
I looked down at my hands, balled into fists, knuckles white. It was as if I was trying to hold onto life in those fists. It was as if I believed that I had caught life like a butterfly and I was afraid that if I stretched out my fingers, it would fly away forever, never to be mine again.
Change my heart. Shake the dust off of these tired bones. Make this heart beat with purpose. Tell me what to do.
I stared down at my hands as I continued to squeeze tighter in the silence. And then, He spoke.
Open your hands, sweet girl. How can I give to you when you are gripping things of this world so tightly? Open up those hands and praise me. Lift them high. I will give. I will change. I will provide.
Tiny hands can’t hold this big, wondrous life that we have been given.
Wouldn’t it be sad if we could hold onto all of the beautiful parts of life- all of the treasured experiences, the pain, the excitement, the love- in the palms of our hands? Life isn’t meant to be held. It is meant to be lived. It is meant to glorify and shine and bring into the world golden stories of redemption and love.
I opened my hands and lifted my palms up.
I will take what you give me and I will be thankful. I will take this life and love with my whole being. I will stand up again when I fall and make mistakes. I will put my heart and soul into this life and I will cherish it. This life is Yours. These hands are Yours. Do what you will.