Is it really Monday again already? Where did the weekend go? How does it go by so fast??
Hey guys! I’m Jamie Henderson and it’s my week to share some thoughts and spend some time with you. Honestly, I’ve been enjoying reading the other posts so much that today kind of snuck up on me. I know that I’m after Stephanie and I even woke up early Friday to read her post. I loved the honesty in her snotty sharing and I shot her a text telling her so. But it still never occurred to me until sometime yesterday that it was my turn to write.
Good thing I got plenty of rest over the weekend. Oh, wait. I didn’t. What was supposed to be a wonderfully relaxing time at the beach turned into two days of running around like a chicken with my head cut off…….and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
I rarely ever get to go anywhere with the whole family. Both of my kids are in college and one has a baby of her own now. I work Tuesday through Friday and every Sunday (at my church) and most everyone else in the family works Monday through Friday and a lot of Saturdays. Needless to say, it’s rare that we can all get away for two days at the same time.
But from Thursday night to Saturday night, I had (almost) everything that I hold near and dear under one roof at Topsail Beach. Even my brother and two nieces came down to spend some time with us. I didn’t mind the dishes, the dirty towels on the floor, or the late night giggles. I soaked it all in.
I soaked it in because I remember a time when things were a lot different. I remember a time when my ears heard very little laughter. My childhood wasn’t always great. There have been many times over the years that arguing and fighting and yelling were the main sounds echoing in my ears. Most of the time the fights surrounded someone’s addiction. Many times the struggle was my own.
Eleven years ago God did a crazy work in my heart. He used a small town preacher to tell me about His love. I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. I had spent most of my life in church and more times than not the message just sounded like condemnation and judgement.
This time it was different. I heard about a word called love. In that very moment I began to recover.
How about you start this week off thinking about that concept? Recovery starts with love and ends with love, the love of Jesus Christ to be precise. And because of the love that He used to begin the healing process in my life, I can now enjoy some very happy times with my own family.
Oh how I love the sound of my children laughing now. And to think that Satan almost stole it.
Come back Friday. I want to talk about love and how it helped me turn my life around!