Every summer my mind unwinds to a time when running barefoot didn’t hurt my feet. I would play outside till the street lights came on and check in with Mom to see if I could stay out a bit longer. She’d give a somewhat reluctant nod and I’d take off down the street again before she could change her mind.
Life was simpler then. Slower, I tend to think.
Eventually, though, responsibility seemed to run up behind me, flashing me a smile long enough to imply I was this big girl living in a grown up world. Yet it never stopped. It ran on ahead, daring me to keep up.
And I tried. Oh, how those bare feet strived to swing the pace of my youth as I chased all those responsibilities down. I foolishly thought I had to do it all, but my stamina just wouldn’t keep up.
Eventually, though, the pace had to slow. It was in the two years following the birth of my fourth child that I cried out to God, asking for Him to rescue me from the run. And He heard me.
It wasn’t long before God began to orchestrate a plan for me, and it didn’t look a thing like what I’d envisioned. I had my own ideas for how He could rescue me and His solution just wasn’t adding up.
But the trust was there…and the peace followed. He presented me with a plan that gave me a glimpse into what grace was all about.
Today I’m guest posting over at my friend Tiffany Parry’s blog, Simply For One, for her “Real Conversations” series. I’d love for you to join me at her place to read the rest of my grace story.