In my dream I am running a race – strides even and strong – going forward with strength and purpose. I turn for a quick glance behind me, and it happens. I stumble and fall taking myself out of the race to sit miserably on the sidelines.
I am not a literal runner. A brisk walk is much more my speed. I am, however, a runner in this race called life. I run not in my own strength, but in the grace and strength the Lord supplies. There are seasons when I run like the runner of my dreams – strong and steady. The path is straight and smooth, and I feel as though I can easily go the distance.
As long as I keep my eyes fixed on the goal I do well. It is when I begin to look over my shoulder at the places I have been that my gait begins to falter…
I'm stepping back into my little space - beginning at Laced With Grace today. Could we meet there?