I wrote this for a class....

My Life's Metaphor

"My life is a blueprint and God is my architect."

I feel this expresses my life's meaning and purpose. I kept pondering this great question for many days and my spirit continued to prompt me, that what expresses me best is the way I give my will to God. My life and body are His for the molding. From the very beginning of my life, he has used different materials to build me a strong foundation that would withhold and outlast the elements of time. My feet are firmly planted in cement to help me stand tall and proud. My legs are built with great metal beams to hold strong, but my knees are on hinges, so I will be quick to fall to my knees and call upon my architect, to render gratitude or when things get to be too much.

He used strong bricks and beautiful rock for my torso and exterior; to shield me from the ways of the world and the hurtful things that are thrown at me. He was wise to leave plenty of room on the inside for my heart and organs that are passionate, warm, and inviting. He also built magnificent spaces in my soul, that I keep things sacred and wonderful to me. I have a vast family room where much laughter and joy takes place. The spirit abides there and I feel safe when I visit that part of my innards. I have a melodies' music room, where there is no roof so I can sing praises up, up and out, so I can give glory to my God.

Then there is my bedroom; oh what a sacred place. This is where I build on my testimony and read His holy words, and converse with my architect. He is never too busy to hear my pleas. He built me a special front porch, where I can step outside of myself and be vulnerable to the world. When I walk out and look at his vast creation, He assures me that he chose this location especially for me. You should see the view. He built my arms firm and outreaching, able to envelope others but also to be able to work hard and keep my home clean and pure. He took a great deal of time on my hands. Oh so carefully he built them out of soft materials that I may use them as tools to cultivate my life along with those in need of tender care. To be able to wipe away tears without scratching a face, or to clap loudly when giving praise of encouragement and cheer. Most importantly to clasp one in the other, offering thanks for the tender mercies given. My neck and spine are made of hard materials to make my center core unyielding and tough. My neck then holds my head up high proudly displaying the final touches of my home. My eyes are my windows green and fierce able to distinguish the storm approaching. Also able to witness the miracles that my architect gives so often and freely. He built my mouth and lips to sing and laugh and give wise council, but again to give thanks for my bounteous blessings and spread the joy of faith and hope. Watching myself be built from scratch was a miraculous journey.

The meticulous care and all knowing design He made, was just for me. The end result is a perfect infrastructure built and molded into who I was supposed to become. He made me capable and strong; to withstand a variety of storms, floods, fire and heartache. He gave me safe havens within myself that protect me, and sustain my longing soul. If you are lucky enough for me to let you into any of my rooms, you will find that in every single one, the spirit and presence of the architect abides. He built me up. He is in every nook and cranny of my being. I readily gave my will and life to him, to become not only who I should be, but who He needs me to be. I am grateful…..I am His…..He is my everything!