I burst into tears.
It seems so stupid now but here's the thing. Last Christmas my husband's grandmother bought one of these books for all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. So in fifteen years when Nana is in heaven, our kids will hear her read them stories about the birth of Christ and Humpty Dumpty. Truly these are a priceless gift.
I was determined to get two books and have my mom read them so our kids would have her voice. When I saw the price of each book was $30 I staggered and, being the cheapskate that I am, decided I'd get them when they were on sale. The sale never happened. My mom died. And now I wish with everything in me that I would have bought those stupid books so I could hear my mom's voice.
Regret sometimes sounds like "I shouldn't have" but other times, it sounds like "I wish I would have."
Regret. I wear it like a heavy load on my back. The "What ifs?" the "If onlys."
How I am haunted by regret.
I was at a Living Proof conference and was so convicted of my regret. I cling to regret. Sometimes I cling to it because I believe remembering what I shouldn't have done will keep me humble and dependent on God. In reality, those regrets make me live a life of fear and self-condemnation. Regret is a shroud of shame placed on me by myself, my enemy, and others that keep me in bondage.
Don't misconstrue what I am saying. I've done wrong. I've made mistakes. But I do not have to cling to them ... how much more powerful am I when I repent, accept grace, and walk in freedom? When I refuse to be chained to regret?
What I thinks is I can't cling to regret and walk in freedom. How do you hold onto something and let it go? You simply can't do both.
These thoughts tumbled about in my head and the worship team started singing. I knew He was speaking to me when the singers proclaimed, "I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves us."
Regret (n.): A heavy burden made lighter when I choose to believe that He loves me more than my mistakes.