WHEN DID I BECOME A PASSIONATE WOMAN?

 This morning, Ray and I watched Quincy—an old time favorite. I remember when I heard that Ray’s niece was going into forensic medicine; probably when Quincy was popular the first time. I thought, given her youth, I’d pursue the same thing. This morning those thoughts revisited my heart. I’d always been interested in medicine but the reason for the interest has undergone some transition.

I leaned toward medicine when I was in high school. Mom and Dad sent me to beauty school. I may or may not have been able to manage a medical program with chemistry as its base; mom didn’t think I could. But . . . I remember the part of cosmetology that I enjoyed most: biology; anatomy. Forensics and the truths it holds, had I known of them then, might have captured my attention. In that decade of my life, compassion and helping others were probably more my focus; and I don’t think I’ve lost those. I think they were the birth-point of my “passion.”

But, today, truth—be it pleasant or hard, holds my heart’s attention.

I am overcome with the desire for truth to be known. Truth, honestly, makes me cry. Not because it’s always bad truth—but because it is so precious to me.

Recently, Ray and I have gotten into Heat of the Night, another old time TV program. I’ve come to tears a few times when someone quotes Scripture; when Christianity is freely and sincerely expressed. Something not seen much in TV today. Truth! It’s worth a tear or three.

I’m guessing, at one time, truth would have crushed me. Truth about relationships—truth about my children—truth about mistakes I’ve made—truths within my family of origin—truths about intentions (my own or someone else’s). I’d like to say I underwent instant change when I became a Christian; when truth “should” hold high priority; when I could take any unpleasant truth to Jesus. It didn’t. I’d have been the first one to say, “Truth hurts!”

I tend to give my all to whatever my passion (?) is at the time; and that at the expense of other things NOT getting the time and attention they should. Cross-stitch, writing, reading (that one never dies), rubber stamping, God’s Word (that one wavers but never goes away).  Shoot! Even politics—reading everything I could so that I’d vote for the candidates best for our country—AND myself.

Maybe that’s where my passion got a kick-start. Maybe my passion is experiencing a growth spurt because truth seems to be disappearing. Maybe it’s because I see people fall for anything or everything that has the scent of spirituality but little truth that lines up with Christianity—with the words of Christ—the one absolute, unchangeable Truth. Maybe it’s because that one Truth ties other truths together, because it makes all other truths matter, because Jesus is the one Truth that won’t dissolve in fluffy words nor get blown apart in torrential storms.

Maybe I didn’t become a passionate woman at any particular time, or because of any particular circumstance. Perhaps I’ve always been a passionate woman. It’s just so happens that the slow-growing plant is blooming. Perhaps the deep pink tightened bud is opening because I finally realize that I hold a Treasure that I neither need to hide or hoard–a treasure abundant enough to share with anyone and everyone—a treasure that no one can steal or destroy or even diminish!. My treasure, truth, and passion are One—One who will never change—not ever!

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found the one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.” Matthew 13: 45

One day, may my passion be strong enough to swallow all my fears . . . of people, of poverty, of war, of cancer, of pain . . . that day is close BECAUSE HE IS!

Passion grows as I become more and more . . .

Dependent on Him Who is Utterly Dependable,

Lonnie