As it is in Heaven

Last night, either it was the turkey pastrami and American cheese sandwich, or God just slamming a bag of bricks into the side of my face. I was crushed. About 3 a.m. after reading through the first 10 chapters of Leviticus, and watching some sound bites from Piper sermons, I went to the living room of my parents house. I don’t call this place my home, even though it is. I am 21 and seek independence, but with a part time job, paying for college, gas prices rocketing up, and touring seminaries, the cash flow doesn’t quite reach that far yet.
Now to continue.
I was led to the living room where I was constantly reminded of my parents love for me. From adoption to a 21 year old, my folks have always been their for me. That word “always” I mean to put great emphasis on that word. When I was a baby, 3 months old, they sought me. They didn’t know me, or have a clue that I needed a home, but by the providence of God they did. Taking me home to the states they protected me. Raising me up in a godly household they guided me. Reading to me every night they invested in me. Bringing me to school they educated me. Driving me to church they encouraged me. Cooking every night and having supper on the table even if I didn’t show up they cared about me. Praying for me every morning and night they loved me. Exempilfying Gods grace even when I rebelled against them they taught me. Sitting their in the recliner many memories flooded my mind.

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