Don't Let Your Past Steal Your Future

Have you ever wondered how much our past can keep us fromnentering open doors that God has provided? Sometimes thenfear from a past incident makes me hesitant to enter into annew door. There is one incident that stands out above allnothers in my “child mind” and often reaches from the past tongrab my future….

As a small child, I always loved to play in the dirt and thenhouse where I spent the first five years of my life wasnbuilt on red clay—the best “kids” dirt in the whole world.
After a rain, the clay near the road would soften and wouldnprovide hours of imaginative play for me. I molded the softnclay into anything I could imagine. My favorite thing tonmake was “frog houses” - the result of covering my footnwith clay, patting it down firmly and then carefullynremoving my foot—there to my delight was a “frog house.” Notnthat I ever found a frog to inhabit the house, but in mynimagination it was the perfect place for one to take upnresidence.

One day I wandered too close to the road where the clay wasnparticularly pliable. My mother didn’t like my playing innthe dirt or by the side of the road - for obvious mothe
reasons. She had told me over and over again, “Stay out ofnthat dirt!” and “Stay away from the road.” But I justncouldn’t resist. The day I remember the most, I suppose shenhad reached her boiling point and she decided to drive hernwa
ings home in a more poignant way. She came to where Inwas sitting, picked me up and started toward the back of thenhouse. I knew what was coming. I was going to “the shed”! Ofncourse, I began to scream which brought all the neighborsnout to observe the ruckus. Mother opened the rickety shedndoor and made me step inside on the old wooden floor. Incould see the ground through the rotten boards and in mynvivid imagination every creepy-crawly within miles wasncoming to get me through the cracks in the floor. The old,nweathered shed housed mother’s empty Mason jars that werenbrought there throughout the winter until they werenretrieved in the spring and summer when canning time camenaround.

Once inside and the door shut, I began to yell, “Somebodynplease go get my daddy! He works down at Fred Stewarts. Inneed him now to get me out of here.” I screamed over andnover again. Several neighbors ventured closer to plead withnmy mother to let me out, but punishment had been determinednand it was to be carried out! I just remember that no onencame to my rescue. No one went to get my Dad for me.

To this day, when I enter a dark room and the light behindnme is bright, the memory of that need for my daddy rushesnthrough my mind like a flash flood. It’s a sinking feeling.
I take a deep breath and realize God’s grace. At that moment
I hold the promise of God very close and I remember my
Heavenly Father said—”For you did not receive a spirit thatnmakes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spiritnof sonship. And by him we cry, Abba, Father,” Romans 8:15.
My encouragement to you is whatever you are going through,nor have gone through in the past—sickness, abandonment,nfailures—whatever it is—Don’t let your past steal you
future!
Cling tightly to the promises of God!