When I was a little girl, gold meant fancy. Shiny. Very special. And it made you amazing if you owned it. If you wore it. Like a princess.
When I was a teen-ager, gold became what the middle age people were involved with, what I did not need to be happy, what I was rebelling against.
When I became a young adult, gold was something I was longing for, because it could buy me a house, and a vacation, and toys for the kids. But it was always out of my reach, so far, far away.
And now I am fifty-four years old, and gold, it is just gold. A metal created by God that people esteem more than other metals, a metal that you can exchange for things, a metal that people lust after, that people kill over, a standard of wealth.
Wealth measured in karats of gold. A karat is solid gold.
And unless it is 24 K gold, what we are used to call “gold” is not pure gold at all. It’s called “gold” even if it’s 9,14,18 or 22. But it’s not full gold–it just carries that name. Like we call milk anything that’s white and comes from a cow, even if we took all the fat out of it.
Pure gold is 24. Pure gold is fat. And perfect.
God’s salvation, it’s a 24. Pure. Perfect. No defect. Not second best. The real thing.
And He gave it to me.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp
#766 Umbrella in a downpour
#767 Listening to a fascinating audio book
#768 Looking at wedding pictures and smiling
Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 Home, SDG, Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing Home, Play Dates with God, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday,Inspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s Story, Into the Word, In and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday,Titus2Tuesdays, Extraordinay, Lessons from Ivy, Denise in Bloom, Sweet Blessings, Faith Filled Friday, Finding Joy, WholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word,