This past week I have been thinking a lot about the past…my past.  It’s one of those things that some days I wish I could just leave behind, lose it like I do so often with pens, or my keys, or my mind.  But, I can’t.

The funny thing about the past is that it rarely stays there.  It follows you around.  It lives inside the deepest part of your being.  My past has molded who I am today, in the good things, the things I have had to seek healing for, and the things I may never heal from.

Tonight I was looking through a photo album of old family photos that I had copied from my mom’s albums she kept of my brothers and I growing up.  Sometimes I pull out these photos because I want to remember, but most of the time its because I want to escape back to a time I wish I could remember better.

This is the picture I always gravitate toward.


I don’t remember that day, but every time I see this picture, I want to go back to it.  I want to be that little girl again.  I want to play in the leaves with my dad and brothers and not feel like I’m wasting my life.  I want have one last conversation with my dad, even if it is as a 3yr old.

The craziest thing about this picture is that my dad is my age in it.  My dad is 25 in this picture.  He has two children and a huge smile on his face.  I know his life wasn’t perfect then (it never was), but it didn’t have to be.  He was happy.  He was loved, and he loved his family and his life.

I know that I can’t go back.  My life right now is the life I am called to live in.  And that’s okay.  The past is the past, even if it feels like the present sometimes.  And, as much as my past is a part of me, it is not my definition.  It is not the label I wear.  My past doesn’t determine my future.

After all, I am not my own.  I have been bought with a price and redeemed for a greater purpose.

And, it is the same for you.  The past is not your future.  It is not your definition.

HE is.