And she lived happily ever after. . .Amen! And she drove off into the sunset. . .Amen! And she sent her final mortgage payment to the loan company. . .Amen! Alleluia!
We all dream of the end of a burden, but how many of us dream of being in the middle of a crisis in life. Our tomb stone will show the date we were born and the date we die, but our life is lived in all the days represented by the dash. We have our own perfect picture of how abundant life should look, but reality doesn't often match our desired outcome. Many years ago, when I first thought about writing a story of the abuse and healing in my life, I oddly pictured the scene of the final chapter being in a park setting. I would be in a "June Cleaver" dress lounging on a checkered blanket.
Knowing I had arrived at the good side of life, I'd happily watch my little one crawl around as a refreshing breeze touched my face and tossed my dark chocolate hair. Under the ocean-tropic blue skies my husband would swing a Frisbee to our giggling child. I would reach into the wooden-weaved, picnic basket and pull out some homemade delicacies calling everyone to lunch. As we gathered on the blanket, the theatrical music would start and the scene would fade with everyone knowing life-is-complete, and all-is-well.
Guess what? This has never happen, and it never will. Nevertheless, the most difficult parts of my healing journey are finished. While I know God is ever molding me, I have a sweet peace and deep relief that the horrendous days are over. I am not saying I never hurt anymore, or I have become a living saint that never experiences personal sin. I am saying I pressed-on walking obedient to God, until He gave me assurance that I had fulfilled the path He chose for me.

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