I remember a time in my life when I longed to be 16. I thought that I would finally reach a cool age. Then I didn’t like being 18 and felt quite at home being 19. Years went by and I found myself to be 22, I never knew if I liked this age. Now I’m on the verge of turning 23 and I am scared I am not a little girl anymore. Well actually, I wonder when I will ever start considering myself to be a (oh I hate the word) woman. It doesn’t sound like me. Or maybe I should say it the other way around: when will I ever stop considering myself a little girl? I don’t know.

The years will keep coming my way, as long as my Creator wills it. I don’t know when will be my last birthday, maybe it’ll be tomorrow or maybe it’ll be when I’m 31 or 72. I’m always thinking that I haven’t started my life yet, I mean, my real life. It’s always going to start when I am where God has always intended me to be. Probably a teacher somewhere in the woods of I don’t know where, sharing the Gospel of Jesus or maybe … I don’t know. The thing is that I’ve got proof that my life has started, well, at least 23 years ago. I’m living today and I’m not sure but I’m not taking every single of my day very seriously, but the thing is that life has begun and life counts right now.

It’s hard to believe this evening counts. Or that going to work or studying or whatever counts. I want to be reminded that my purpose is to help people know, love and treasure God. I want to care about God’s stuff in my everyday life and stop waiting for THE LIFE to come to me.

That’s probably part of what perseverance is.

Enjoy November 3 with me by rejoicing in God’s grace and by living for Him in the little things.