Thanksgiving, Of Course.

Today is Thanksgiving. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. Seeing family you won't see again for maybe a year, or Christmas if you're really close knit. Watch your favorite football team. Then sleep. Wake, and eat more.

I try to think though, of something I'm thankful for other than "Oh. This year I'm so thankful for all of you- my friends and family. You're all so wonderful." But this year, I haven't known exactly what I'm thankful for. Not up until now.

I have a friend. She met someone while she was overseas. My friend was given the opportunity to show Jesus to this girl and explain of the sacrifice He made. She accepted Jesus. She loved Jesus. "My Isa."

Things progressessed for the girl. Her mom found her Bible that my friend had given her and burned it. She kicked the girl out of the house and basically said she was no longer part of the family. So, the girl found a place with a friend. Her mother found her. "Get this girl out of her house." No mention of any 'daughter'.

Time went by as her mother kidnapped her. Beating her and locking her up for days. But she made it out and found my friend.

As my friend had to leave to come back home, she wanted to ask the girl one thing.

"If you have known you'd go through this much trouble, would you still have accepted Jesus?"

The girl hesitated, answering after a moment.

"I'm so sad... I am so sad because I can't live inside my house and I can't live inside my family. But I'm so happy because I can live inside my Isa."

My Jesus.

In the past year, since last Thanksgiving, I feel like I've done so much. I've done so much that I'm surprise Jesus still looks on my with a caring and forgiving heart.

Doubts. Blame. Giving up on Him. To where I set aside everything I knew. In the mornings, like a robot, I'd read my Bible. Go through the devotional. Then I'd become aware of the school day coming up. Hesitantly I'd lay my Bible at my feet and reach over for the scissors. Slowly, I'd release what I couldn't verbalize. I'd release the pain, regrets, shame, guilt, that only I knew.

But you know what? My Jesus doesn't mind. He loves me and wants to see me live. My Isa offers what I need to heal a wound deep enough that no one else can reach.

My Isa. He's saved me. He loves me. And He refuses to leave me, no matter how many times I come back from worship and plead with Him to leave me alone. He's there. Just like always, just like when nothing was wrong.

kadi.