Icicles

My stubborn heart is melting…
slowly,
slowly.
drip
by
drip.

I’ve heard the name of Jesus since birth and known Him personally for years. How is it that there is still so much of the stubborn me in me?

As I picked up another silver stand of glittering metallic ice, I heard the familiar whisper, “You’re not the same.”

The yo-yo warm and cold of this strange winter is so like me…
melting, freezing
I’m in a teeter-totter, tug-a-war with perfectionism.

wanting, striving, longing for “right”…

yet, 13+ years with a man who lives and breathes freedom has worn me down

the scales are tipping and abundant life is winning out

legalism stinks
holiness is one thing, but only God is perfect
and there’s more than one way to live a godly life
(It is so much easier to do what God asks of me when I’m not piling on religious to-do-lists and inventing idealistic notions of ‘oughts’ and ‘shoulds’.)

tradition is not scripture
and my way is not the only way
(I am often flat out wrong.)

I see my reflection in the mirror and see another static-clinging thread of silver. I think I may be picking up Christmas tinsel all year, and I’m glad. Every slippery shining string is a symbol of how I’m letting go of my way.

My “perfect” tree never had tangles of tinsel, but this last years tree was beautiful. We never had so much fun decorating the tree, and boy, was my husband surprised when he came home one night to see it laced top to bottom with silver. (The Bishop’s Wife’s tree had nothing on ours!)

I am changing. Little by little.
I don’t know if anyone else can see it, but I sure like living with me more and more as I let go of all my self-made rules.

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