Andrea O. Freeman

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. The world and all its people belong to him. For he laid the earth’s foundation on the seas and built it on the ocean depths. Psalm 24:1-2 NLT 2011 was a particularly difficult year in my life. It was difficult for many reasons, some I have shared and some I have not. The birth of our fourth child, Chloe Grace, on March 2 was a welcome breath of fresh air at that time. My husband was recently unemployed, I was blessed to be able to take six weeks maternity leave from my job, and as we drove home from the hospital all I could do was look at her and weep. It should have been happy tears, but I remember the feeling in the pit of my heart. Like I could literally feel the weight of it in me. I was really terrified for the first time in my life I think. We had faced difficult circumstances before, but this, this setback for my husband, for our family, was unlike what we had experienced so far. I look back at myself in that moment in

Forgive ... Release ... Freedom ... Forgiveness. It does not come naturally to us as human beings. When we are hurt, our natural reaction is either to lash out and seek revenge or to withdraw and wallow in our wounded state. In my experience at least, these are the two most common reactions to being hurt. I have been experiencing a challenging season in my life professionally, and as a result, I have been working through the process of being hurt and disappointed. I am a strong, independent and determined person and I have faced greater obstacles in my life compared to this particular situation, but it has been difficult for me to release it fully. I came to a point this morning, as I was doing my devotional time, considering my last days in this job and closing out physical files and my workstation, preparing for my transition to a brand new and wonderful work place ... I was still holding on to something. Because I felt, I was owed something. Know what I’m talking about?

Years ago, we experienced the joy of building and owning our first home in Spring Hill, Tennessee. One of the things I was most excited about was having a garden. I had visions of plants and flowers of several varieties, but I knew it would take time and effort I hadn’t put into this before because we had always lived in apartments up to that point. I had occasional potted plants, but nothing that gave me the opportunity to put down roots. I had learned from my parents experience keeping a garden growing up, so this was my chance to put my own interest and little bit of experience into action. I got all the tools, the soil, the seed, the nutrients to feed them, and the mulch to protect them during the winter months. I got into a rhythm pretty quickly and easily, and found I really loved it. I remember right before we moved away, how much I was going to miss that. I still look back at pictures I took of those flower beds and seeing how pretty they were, and how they grew, and w