His Story Is My Story

I wanted to make my life in the way I, myself, want it to be. And so I slowly wrote on the pages the things I want to happen, to have, and to achieve. There, my childhood memories happened. I wrote there the things that make me happy ang that includes crying if I won't have what I want to have. So I cried if my Father won't buy me the toys I want to play with. Who cares? I'm a kid, my words will always be followed.

Then, I learned cursive and started to write really fast so I wrote more things to make more memories that, surely, will satisfy me. I wrote and wrote and wrote the things that will only benefit me - bad habits that was once just 'habits' for me, laziness which I labeled before as resting, and many more, not thinking that it'll lead to something I will regret. The things that made me happy before became the things that has been making me miserable now.

I wanted to rewrite my own book and start again but sadly, my pen ran out of ink. I was hopeless. I cried on my knees. I had no idea how to mend myself. It's like I fell in the deepest and darkest hole and I had no way of getting out. Before, I cried to have the things I want, now, I cry because of regret. I called out to the people I thought could help me but they weren't around.

"Maybe they're spending the ink in their pens too," I thought.

It was the biggest mistake of my life. I was out of control. I just thought of the things that will satisfy me and did not think of how it will affect me and it's influence to the people around me, telling them to write and write and write as long as it will make them happy, disregarding others.

"Or maybe they can't hear my cry because they already fell in their holes too," I thought.

I cried again after thinking how my actions caused damage.

In my lowest times, I thought no one else had the hand to help me. But to my surprise, someone tapped my shoulder. At first I was hesitant to look up and figure out who it was.

"Cmon. Get up," I heard a man say.

"Father!" I said out loud.

My eyewbrows nearly connected when I asked Him, "How did you get in here?"

"I heard your cry so I thought you needed help," He answered.

"Did you jump from up there?" I asked again.

"Yes."

"Huh? But it's too high! You could have died! Were you hurt Father?" I caressed His arms but He seemed okay.

"No. I'm not hurt," He answered again.

"How did you do that?" I curiously asked.

"I have my ways."

"What ways?"

"I have my secrets too." He chuckled.

It was kinda annoying why Father sometimes doesn't tell me some stuffs that bother me so much. I was clueless of how He got here without hurting Himself but I guess that's what makes Him really awesome. It makes me more curious of Father.

"You were crying. What was wrong?" He suddenly asked.

"I was too selfish. I fell in this hole and I wanna get out so I can continue my story."

In just a blink of an eye, I found myself and my Father out of that hole. I looked at him with so much surprise but He answered with a warm smile. I hugged him tightly. It felt comforting.

"Now, you can continue your story," He told me.

I thought getting out of the hole will make me feel better but something else was lacking. I looked at the thing I was holding since the day I first learned to write. I scanned the pages of the story I was writing and a tear fell when I realized I can't finish it anymore.

"I can't. I ran out of ink. I guess I'll have to end here."

Father leaned closer to me and held my hand.

"Let me do it for you."

I gave him the remaining pages and He started to write on the yellowish paper.

"What if your pen runs out of ink?" I was worried.

"I will write what is the best for you. If you want to continue writing for it to end, for Me, I will make your story unending."

He said unending. I didn't know if it will work. I doubted.

But then I saw His eyes brighten. They express so many emotions that my eyes couldn't bear it's beauty. His voice. It was calm and comforting. His words.  They were exact like He deeply knows it was what my ears want to hear.

But His heart. It was completely different from mine. His heart is pure. Mine was covered with the ways of the world. I felt guilty. I felt so sinful.

He somewhat felt I was in doubt and confused. He pat my head and tucked my hair behind my ears.

"Let your heart be with me. Trust me. Your story will be everlasting with Me."

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There's more to life if we commit everything to our Father. We might not understand what is really happening in our lives, but as we trust His plans for us, time will come, we'll see how the struggles has got us to the opposite.