Growing

I thought I was done with Greek in my life. And then they sucked me into tutoring...

I stopped growing when I was in middle school.

I'm about average height, so to be a 13 year old at this height meant I was huge.

We bought everything too big. Sadly, I never met my expectations when it came to those things. I was supposed to be at least 6 feet tall. I didn't think that was too much to ask. Apparently I shouldn't have asked to be a reasonable weight, either, because I've probably only lost weight since then.

Thankfully, though, my mind and heart didn't stop growing with my body. Though I may appear relatively the same in stature (except for the beard), I'm not who I was 8 years ago. I'm not even remotely who I was, and I only have Jesus to thank for that.

We shared our 'stories' for the last couple of weeks in one of my classes. And you know, I have a lot of stories. I have a lot of experiences that I could've talked about that I've grown from. I was born sick. Physically sick. Spiritually sick. For a large majority of my life, I've been fatherless, and I haven't known any better.

But these stories are no good if I haven't grown. I can't imagine what it would have been like to share with my classmates that I am who I was 8 years ago. And, if you think about it, that was just the blink of an eye. I can't imagine what I'll be like in another 8 years. Or even in 80. But I hope for this: that I keep growing. Because to be the same person I am now would be a defeat of the largest kind.

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Just five minutes alone with your thoughts. Hop on over to The Gypsy Mama and try it out!