Live in the past I will not. It is the same old human reaction that if only…
If only I had done this different
If I only I had could go back, and make things right
There is nothing I would change for I would not be right where God has me, and wants me. Right here sitting drinking my coffee
Imaginary was fun as a kid, but you see that was my story I sought in that of a bottle. Drink it down as a fairy tale potion. No notion of my reality. With each drink tall tales to no avail of that still being my life. When I woke from my hibernation nothing had changed. Usually it was worse, for I had cast a spell upon myself with evil scoffs of that brew. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, and before any other words could come out another shard of glass fell to the ground. My image could no longer be seen. Broken in the glass my face in puzzle pieces no one with the patience to piece it together again
A magic potion with special ingredients that make things go away. Mythical I lived as I pretended I was the happiest in all the land. When really I was heavily burdened, and was poisoning myself to no end
So imaginary for me is not fun at all maybe as a wee-one. Today I live as real as real can be. Loyal, and rich. Not rich with monies. Rich with life given from God. Rich with love, relationships, and blessings overflowing. Why would I want to pretend when what has been written is far better than that of any story of a fictctious nature. It is my story!
It comes with gore, grief, heartache, thievery, fighting, drama, and much suspence, as you turn the pages it has a victorious middle with love and overcomings so triumphant it is nail biting. What’s next, is still being written. It is a story still being drafted, and crafted by the greatest of authors. The characters are the same, but a couple have changed. The main character, and the binding of this book is God (he being the authority). For he took the pen in which this story had been written in, and he is now the pen holder.
It is not fairy tale it is all non-fiction. I would not change a single dictation in this book. It is notated with all truth (hard to bare yes). Yet it is my story, and without it I would not be who I am today. For without all the grit of my story, I would be oh so boring. This story as it is being manuscripted, gives me character. The character I have become as I sit here drinking my coffee, is the one that in the end of this story will get to see everything God has called me to be. He will get all the Glory!!
And if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.