As I thought about what to write tonight, my thoughts kept going back to the night of the storm. I was scared that night. I was terrified to be honest. I have never been fond of storms and this one, even though it didn’t shake my house, and barely rattled the windows, the storm itself had me thinking about my immortality. Not only that, but what would happen if by some chance a tree fell on my house or something. I was pretty doubtful of my place in eternity.
I’d let myself stray from the unshakable faith that I used to have. Somewhere along the road, my relationship with God became more a set of motions. I’d lost touch with the One who inspires me most when it comes to writing. The night of the storm, I struggled with the fact that if I died, not only would I be doomed to hell for all of eternity, God’s gift to me would have been wasted. I was not happy with those thoughts.
Jeffrey was calm throughout the storm, so being the wonderful husband that he is, he held my hand while I begged God for another chance. I begged for forgiveness for straying from Him, and I begged for peace from the storm. At this point, it was more about the storm within me, than it was about the one raging outside.
Finally it came, peace settled in my mind and spirit. I didn’t sleep much that night because of how hot my apartment was, but I knew that God hasn’t finished with me yet. I was born to write, of that I’m convinced. I don’t believe I was born to just write anything though. I feel as though, my purpose is to write in such a way that the spirit of God works through me. It’s hard to explain because I’m not quit sure how that will work, but I’m sure God has a plan.