The Co-Op and Jesus

I talk more here about why I was in the Co-Op in the first place.

I wandered down every aisle of the unfamiliar store, jotting down items and their prices. I know my regular store well enough to see what a normal weekly menu at our house would cost here.
More expensive, but manageable.
Another thing happened to me while we explored this new world. It took over 30 minutes to drive from our little community to this downtown store. I used to live within walking distance and Dic slowed the car a bit for me to point out places I used to live and shop.
As we entered the small, earthy store, I brushed shoulders with a much younger Betty. The one that worked three jobs, lived downtown and was doing everything her way.
She looked content enough. Definitely more at home at the Co-Op than the older version.
She was there simply because it felt like the downtown thing to do. It was a lifestyle, not a decision to seek more natural products. She was there because she liked to walk places near her. She liked the church around the corner because the short walk to it from her little apartment felt so romantic, not because she drew closer to God and His people there. She was proud to tell others she shopped at the Co-Op because it sounded important.
I felt sorry for her. I knew that younger version of myself was lonely and miserable. She made choices based on feelings, not fact. Sometimes she made right choices, because God was still concerned for her, even if she wasn't living for Him.
I felt sorry for her, missed her and related with her all at the same time. I am still the woman that fights against very strong emotions to make the right decision. More often than not, my feelings win. God still pursues me and I still am not in awe of Him as He deserves. I still long for the right look on the outside even if it means being dead on the inside. For months I have been fighting against attitudes and desires that are not godly. Not wrong, necessarily, but things that are not a part of His plan for me right now. These struggles are even more dangerous than my blatant sinful choices of my early 20s. They are subtle. Like a small weed that grows in a larger patch of grass, these thoughts grow bigger and bigger, camouflaged by correct motives, until they are killing the healthy growth in my heart and taking over.
But, God is gracious and I know He will not let me settle in for a dead inside and fake outside, no matter how good that outside looks.
He will lay His hand heavy upon me even while I try to run my own way, so that I will not forget Him. To forget Him would be to forget His love, His grace, His awesome power and will for my life.
To forget Him would be to forget everything that matters.
I brushed past the younger version of myself and an image flashed before me. She sat in a small hallway and cried out to God for deliverance. She was ashamed to ask for help, in a dark, lonely pit. The walls were high and slick. Caked in slime and mud from her many attempts to climb out on her own, she finally slunk down and rested her head upon her knees. She softly called out:
"Oh, God. I dug this pit myself. I climbed in myself. I have stayed here myself. Why can't I escape the place I built myself? Please, please rescue me."
And that's all it took. One small, humble, desperate cry and God was there. Ready to rearrange her life in His unique way to rescue her. There were still consequences for my actions. Still lessons to be learned. I still look into that pit and can see things I want. Then the curtains are pulled back and I see things for how they are: I see a prison of my own making. I see a lonely life that has no purpose. I see my way and my choices.
And I see a lonely woman crying for help.
I brushed past her and reached out for my husband's hand. He is one of many blessings awarded to me for letting God direct my paths. I felt sorry for that Betty, but I know God will yet have His way with her.
Just as He is having His way with this Betty.
He always will.