Thoughts from Everyday Life

Oh, beautiful baby.
You arrived without a map —
eyes wide, hands reaching,
trusting every voice that called your name.

Your hand was held
before you crossed the street,
before you stumbled,
before you lost your way.

The world was so green then.
Trees stretched toward a generous blue sky.
Roses bloomed as if thorns were only rumors.
Every song sounded like it was written just for you.

You didn’t hurry.
You didn’t have to.
Time walked beside you like a loyal friend.

Somewhere along the way, rightfully so, you let go of the hand.

You ran — toward laughter, toward love,
toward a future you were certain you could shape.

You made your plans,
stacking them high like promises,
believing tomorrow would obediently follow your lead.

But life kept moving
while you were busy planning it.

And oh, how you loved.

You looked back — once, twice, again —
wondering if someone was looking back at you,
if the feeling was mutual,
if the moment would stay.

Sometimes it did.
Sometimes it slipped through your fingers
like a melody you almost remember.

Still, you kept going.
You built, you broke, you built again.

You gathered quietly.
Responsibilities began to speak louder than dreams.
The days filled up — mostly good things —
work, family, small decisions that a became a wonderful life.

You learned to stretch what you had,
to make do,
to carry more than you ever imagined you could.

And still, in the quiet,
you paused…
and looked back.

Older now,
you see differently.

The road wasn’t as straight as you once believed.
The plans didn’t all hold.
Some prayers took longer than you hoped.
Some answers arrived in ways you never expected.

But through it all,
a thread — steady, unseen — held everything together.

Even when you wandered.
Even when you weren’t sure what life had in store.
And then, in a moment you didn’t see coming — grace.

Not earned.
Not forced.
Given.

A quiet knowing settles in your soul:

There is nothing new under the sun —
the striving,
the searching,
the circling.
It has all been walked before.

And yet… you were never alone in it.

What you were chasing was never out there.
The meaning you tried to build
was always waiting.

In Him.

Not in the noise,
not in the rush,
not in the endless looking back
to see who might be looking back at you —

But in the One who was always looking at you with love.

Now the pace softens.

Your hands open more easily.
Your heart finally rests.

The world is still green —
but now you see beneath the surface.

Beauty carries weight.
Joy carries truth.
And gratitude becomes your song.

So you lift your voice,
not because everything was perfect,
but because grace was present through it all.

Praise ye the Lord.

Hallelujah.

And before you know it,
you are home.