Freedom isn’t the release from truth, it’s the embracing of it.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then,

and do not let yourselves be burdened

again by a yoke of slavery.

Galatians 5:1

Dear Me,

The first time you sinned, you picked up the crystal bowl at Jones department store and then proceeded to drop it. It wasn’t the dropping of the bowl; it was that your mother very specifically asked you not to pick it up.

But that request really rained on your parade. At three years old, you were a perfectly capable adult. And to be assigned a baby’s task of keeping your hands to yourself was an obvious offense to your senses.

Who did this lady think she was?

You laugh sometimes in your head about that memory, especially it being your first. The feeling of indignation settling on you so strongly and so early. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Later in life, you still won’t put two and two together. You see God as a big drag raining on all the parades. At least your mother only rained on one. It will take you a very long time to understand something crucial.

You didn’t create the game, so why do you think you deserve to create the rules?

Rules are not a list of “you can’t.” It’s a list of you “you shouldn’t because.” And the end of that sentence is the clincher. Because you could get hurt. And others too.

Haven’t you seen that in real time? Drunken “what did I do last nights?” floating through your head, that obnoxious headache joining the chorus. And what about sitting in cars with strangers or walking down lonely roads when you can barely remember your middle name?

You’ve looked through the wrong lens for so long. Freedom isn’t the release from truth, it’s the embracing of it. And what’s true is that we have a Creator who created you and knows each of your parts so intimately. You’re a writer. You should get something like that. You’ve created whole worlds of people who freely choose their own choices and all along you already know what they’re planning in their hearts. You’ve created them. You’ve created their worlds. And you know what those choices will do, whether bad or good.

And don’t you think God understands the same?

He sits up high, a macrocosm of all we can’t fathom. Who are you, little one, to say otherwise? Were you there when he built the foundations of the world?

No. No, you were not.

You’re right here, pouting about all you’ve lost when it wasn’t yours to win in the first place. But one day you’ll know better. You’ll understand better.

And you will want to play the game the way it was created.

Talk soon,

Ericka